


An Extraordinary Souvenir

by TheBusyAuthor



Series: An Extraordinary Souvenir [1]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Dating, Distance, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Romance, Secrets, Sex, Siblings, lockdown - Freeform, relationship, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 119,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBusyAuthor/pseuds/TheBusyAuthor
Summary: Waiting for his sister and brother-in-law to video call him after coming back from their holiday, Martin didn't expect that this year's souvenir will be extraordinary and something he could enjoy for the rest of his life if he unwraps and treats it with honesty and authenticity, with soulfulness, trust and love.
Relationships: Martin Freeman/Original Female Character(s)
Series: An Extraordinary Souvenir [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095422
Comments: 94
Kudos: 8





	1. An Extraordinary Souvenir

_**\- Saturday, March/21 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's House -** _

Silence crept through the huge English house near Hampstead Heath.  
The late afternoon had arrived; the early evening was within reach.

Martin was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen island - he was holding a book in his hand, had just made himself a cup of tea; he still let it brew. But since he hadn't wanted to put the book down, he had taken it with him into the kitchen, and while he waited for the tea, his eyes read another chapter.

Silence crept through the huge English house, which radiated cosiness, as well as Martin's passions and personality. 

Shrilly and unexpectedly, the unmistakable Skype warble sounded.

Martin flinched, lifted his head in shock, threw the book to the left out of shock – and since he was a lucky man when it came to crazy unexpected catastrophes, the book hit the filled cup of tea sweepingly.  
While the book lay undamaged on the kitchen island, the cup slammed onto the parquet floor, leaving hundreds of shards and a large hot puddle.

Martin's hand had still reflexively moved towards the cup, and his body had also taken a frightened step to the side at the same time, but much too late.

"What a bloody fucking mess…," he grumbled and looked down at the wet disaster.

Skype still warbled unperturbed, but Martin squatted down and collected the large shards of the mug he had just bought with a new watch from Camden Watch Company a few days earlier.  
The fox called Professor Reginald, who was depicted on the mug, was no longer recognisable - the beautiful enamel mug was just a heap of broken pieces.  
The shards ended up in the bin - large ones, slightly smaller ones; all of which he could pick up carefully with his fingers.  
The tea bag also ended up in the bin.  
Skype continued to warble his song, while Martin laid out kitchen paper on the hot puddle, covering even the tiny pieces of the broken enamel mug.  
The paper soaked up the tea, more and more were used.  
Martin carefully picked up the kitchen paper again, not wanting to scratch the parquet floor by wiping.  
And still Skype warbled his song merrily. 

The paper towels flew into the dustbin- and then Martin fetched the hand hoover that was standing on the floor next to the kitchen door.  
The last shards were vacuumed up while he was on his knees, crawling across the kitchen floor; he didn't want to miss a shard and have it stuck in his foot in the evening or tomorrow morning.  
A piece of mug had even swished, due to the impact of the cup, all the way to the kitchen table - on which the laptop was standing, still announcing the Skype video call. 

The hand hoover sucked in the last shard at the kitchen table.  
Martin put the hand hoover on one of the chairs, sat down on another chair,… and then, after 10 long minutes, he finally accepted the video call.

His eyes were beaming, but they were beaming into emptiness.

He saw a large painting, saw a large comfortable couch, but nobody lingered on it.  
The blue eyes lost their happy sparkle - but only a few seconds later a woman with blonde long hair and blue eyes appeared from the right, and a black man with coffee brown eyes from the left.

"There you are at last," beamed his sister Laura – who was exactly 89 seconds older than him, and therefore more likely to be called his twin sister.  
"Have you been travelling in the vastness of your house?" joked his brother-in-law Lamar, who waved at the same time.

Not a word left Martin's lips; he just beamed at the two people on the other side of the screen.  
Little was known about his siblings - quite a lot about Jamie, a little about Tim, but his eldest brother Benedict and his twin sister Laura preferred to participate in Martin's life outside the public eye.  
And that was one of the reasons why it was not publicly known that his sister Laura was actually his twin sister - you couldn't really tell it anyway because of the different sex, even if there were some similarities.

"It's not even five o’clock yet," he beamed to the two persons who were lounging on their sofa in Kingswell Aberdeen, Scotland; who he had been appointed with at five o’clock. "Oh, it’s lovely to see you – you shoo away my bad mood."

Laura beamed to Martin, sent him a kiss.  
"Oh, why are you in a bad mood again, Mr. Grumpy?"  
"I got scared - that annoying Skype warble scared me. And then I chucked a book which I was reading to the side and of course it hit the full cup of tea next to me. The mug landed on the floor. I just cleaned up the mess - that's why you had to wait for me," he reported and then pointed his left index finger at Lamar and Laura. "Stop that nasty laughter!"  
Lamar hit his thigh laughing, almost choked on the hearty laugh - but it was him who was the first one to stop laughing.

"We're distracting you," smiled Martin’s French-born brother-in-law. "We arrived safely, as you can see. We got home earlier than expected; we didn't feel like going out to eat somewhere, sitting in a room with lots of people, so we used the MC Drive and only ate in the car. You are fine and healthy too, I hope.", smiled the dark skinned 48-years old man.  
Martin nodded.  
"Great to have you back home, safe and sound,” Martin smiled, then nodded again. "Yes, everything's good so far - Joe and Gracie are fine too; and they're a quite happy that the schools are closed for the time being. Have you heard about it already?"  
Lamar nodded, but Laura answered.  
"Yes, we updated ourselves last night – and your two chestnuts texted us some updates too,” Laura said, referring to her adult kids and Martins niece and nephew, who he was always talking about as ‘my two chestnuts’ since they’d been born. “After all, the university is closed too. I'm going to work from home for the time being, and also at the gallery and museum, which hopefully won't have to close, too" said Laura, who studied art history and was now mainly teaching at the university. "Let's talk about the holiday, darling. Corona is a fucking little shit and I don’t want to talk about it now - the two of us would much rather go to work normally," she said, referring to herself and her brother, because her husband worked for the Metropolitan Police and he would definitely be able to continue working as usual.

Martin sighed and nodded - at first he had thought that the virus was far away, but he too had realised that China wasn't that far away these days.  
The world had become more open due to technology, such as aeroplanes - and as a result, China was very far away in terms of mileage, but it was much closer than people thought because of the travel possibilities.  
Today, a virus could spread across the globe at breakneck speed.  
He missed to work, and he wasn’t even back home for too long now - but when you’re constantly surrounded by lots of people and a lot of work, a quiet house without a film set is a pretty big change.  
He loved his house, he loved his hobbies, he also loved to rest; and this probably imminent lockdown also gave him a lot of time to spend with his children - but he also loved his work, his colleagues, the projects, the film sets and the other people he met there.  
He was no longer used to a quiet life that would probably last a few months.  
Martin ran his hand through his hair - he didn't want to think about it any longer, he rather wanted to talk about the holiday of the two returnees, because the topic of Corona would surely haunt the world for a while.

"How was Malta?" Martin smiled with interest; his eyes shone to his twin sister and his brother-in-law.

Lamar beamed to London.

"Fantastic! God, it’s amazing there! It had been a good decision to get to know this country. I'm glad that we could still really enjoy it. Malta is beautiful! We were on the road every day and had fantastic weather for the whole two weeks. But you already saw that in the photos we sent you," Lamar grinned, "I highly recommend Malta - it's a breathtaking beautiful country.”  
"The photos made me jealous," grinned Martin.  
"Come on, you've just enjoyed the beach yourself!"  
Martin laughed.  
"Great! In Los Angeles. With a horrible wig. During work."  
"Don't complain, I can't work on the beach," Lamar smirked.  
"There's a beach in Aberdeen, too," Martin grinned.  
"But there are no summery temperatures right now like in Los Angeles, not even the mild almost summery temperatures like in Malta," Lamar grinned.  
"I can't help you with that - I'm not the weather girl."  
"You'd make a pretty cute weather girl."

The two men laughed heartily.

It was fantastic to have them back - safe and sound.  
The broken tea mug and the short-term chaos was already forgotten - all that mattered was his sister and her husband.

Laura waved, tried to get Martin’s attention, looked urgently at him.  
"Darling – I got you a souvenir from Malta."  
Martin's laughter ebbed away more and more, a smile returned to his face.  
"What did you get me from Malta?"  
Laura looked at him radiantly and excitedly, even euphoria was visible, while Lamar smiled knowingly.  
"The perfect souvenir! It's so breathtakingly good and perfect, I'll never be able to give you a better present ever again in your whole life and afterlife," she praised her own souvenir to the skies, her voice euphoric and her body all jittery. She even clapped excited and joyous.  
"Don't make such a fuss about it, Laura! You're making me all nervous with your fidgetiness."  
Laura beamed like crazy, ran her hand through the blonde hair, then drummed excitedly and wildly on Lamar's right thigh.  
"It's just so great and amazing, darling. Gosh, I love that souvenir,… and you’ll love it too! I've found the ultimate and perfect souvenir for you."  
"Laura!”  
"All right, all right, all right." beamed the 48-year-old into the camera.  
But the souvenir was still a long way off.

Martin could watch his sister type – she was typing and typing.  
He received a message via their Skype chat.  
Martin wrinkled his forehead; his eyes actually only saw a name.

_emmalouisa.delaurentiis89_

Before he could ask a question to find out what the name was all about, he heard his sister's euphoric voice again.

"I have found your future wife!" she beamed with enthusiasm. "She is great, simply fantastic, just amazing! Perfect - perfect for you! Simply breathtaking! Enchanting!" she enthused, without being interrupted by words or her brother's irritated and wonderstruck facial expression. "Isn't she?", she asked her husband with a quick sideways glance, but she didn't give him a chance to answer. She beamed at Martin, her eyes glowing enthusiastically. "You have the same intense love for books, art and music. She dresses incredibly well, her style matches yours and your personality - she is generally incredibly pretty, very natural; an incredibly attractive woman. Gosh, to be honest she is breathtaking beautiful! Isn't she?" she asked her husband again, but again she didn't give him a chance to answer, because her euphoric rapture and rhapsody had not yet come to an end. "We met her in a record store - she owns it. You probably would have spent most of the holiday in this store. Well, it’s a mixture of a record store and a nostalgic café - everything is very delicious, from the cakes to the biscuits and sandwiches, not to mention the tea and coffee and hot chocolate, and the fresh lemonade. A great place to dwell. And while you linger in the store, you can browse through the records, listen to them, buy them - she also has very rare records. Actually, we wanted to buy you a record, that's why we visited the store. And then we got to know your perfect match," she beamed - she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, still very jittery - she babbled without pausing for breath. "She is absolutely deliciously funny, quick-witted, very authentic, warm and open-hearted, and absolutely down to earth. She can entertain very well, she’s a great storyteller, it's just fantastic to chat and talk to her - I think you could hang on her every word for hours and hours. He could, couldn't he?" Again, a question to her husband, she had even turned her head to him, but she cut off his words, which made Lamar grin again - Martin was just sitting on his kitchen chair completely perplexed. "She is extraordinary; and you not only have many things in common, she is not only what you wish for in a woman, you also have dissimilarities in the right places - and I am very sure you would balance each other perfectly; you’d be able to give each other a fucking lot!" she enthused with bright and sparkling eyes, with an enthusiastic and excited voice, and a facial expression and posture that showed exactly this euphoria and excitement. A smile suddenly fell on her face. "By the way, what I've sent you is her Skype contact - somehow you’ve to reach out to her to invite her for a date," she said casually - and stopped her raving and rhapsody for now.

Martin blinked several times; he looked at his sister with an open mouth – astonished and overchallenged.

"My future wife?", he reacted to something his sister had mentioned half an hour ago.  
Laura beamed and nodded.  
"You know, the person you meet, date, fall in love with, confess your love to, move in with - and then propose to.”  
Martin shook his head to sort out his thoughts.  
"That's not what I meant by the question, Laura."  
"I know, sweetie." Laura smirked.

Martin leaned back, put his hands in front of his face, shook his head again, could hardly believe what he had heard in the last minutes.  
Right now, he felt massively overchallenged.

"Don't worry,...", Lamar grinned. "Your sister hasn't booked a wedding venue yet. Malta would be a great place for it - and you really should contact her.”  
Martin lowered his hands slowly - they still covered his nose and mouth, just revealed his blue overchallenged eyes.  
"Don't think too much, darling. Besides, one doesn't turn down gifts. She is gobsmacking and such a sweetheart - and I'm sure she could make you very happy."

Martin took his hands off of his face.

"How is that going to work? What do you expect me to do? I can't just video call her when she's online."  
"Of course, you can. You just need to go on a little adventure."  
"And then she'll probably think I'm a bloody crazy lunatic - because you probably didn't tell this woman that you’re going to give me her Skype contact."  
"Emma. And she doesn't know it, that’s true. But we exchanged our contact details because we got on very well - she showed us Malta in the second week, the secret places, she gave us a closer look – and we had dinner together, several times."  
"That's nice,… that you got along that well - but I, ... Laura, ... that’s fucking crazy."  
"You'll be fine, darling," Laura beamed to Martin, who was still completely dumbfounded and overchallenged.

Martin shook his head in disbelief, could still see Laura’s beaming face, could still see Lamar nodding in agreement.

"I don't want to tell you too much about her - you'll have to find out the rest for yourself when you contact her," Laura smiled enthusiastically and mysteriously. "Anyway, she's 30 and... "

Martin immediately cut her off.

"30?!?!", he asked astonished and staggered; he now sat up properly. "When I told you about Jeanne, you said she was quite a bit too young for me - and she was only ten years younger. Emma is 18 years younger than me. That's more than ten! And you almost made me feel bloody guilty about Jeanne being ten years younger than me."  
Laura made a gesture of refusal, her blue eyes were sparkling and beaming to her brother.  
"That was something completely different, Martin! Jeanne was not your perfect match. What do 18 years do, it doesn't matter - the main thing is that it is a match, that you feel good and happy, safe and sound. And I'm sure that you two would be a perfect match, that you would feel very comfortable with her, and that she would make you extremely and truly happy. I wouldn't care if she were even younger. She's over 18, so what's the problem?"

Martin blinked shocked and flattened, he was just completely taken by surprise, he was flabbergasted. 

"What Laura wants to say - she's a little bit in love with Emma herself; she's sure that Emma could be the home you’re looking for if you’d go on a little extraordinary adventure; she has the feeling, and I have the same feeling, that our souvenir could be the love of your life; and that in extraordinary situations and moments it sometimes doesn't matter how old someone is."

"Sweetie, you know that I usually don’t interfere in someone else’s business, but in this extraordinary case, I just can't let you run away from your happiness; I just have to guide you a little bit."

Martin stared at his sister and brother-in-law, who were sitting in their home in Kingswell, Aberdeen - he was flattened and overwhelmed, dumbfounded and overchallenged.  
He felt his heart racing, he felt nervous and excited, he also felt a little cornered, but he also felt huge gratitude and love for the two of them - it was lovely to feel how much they cared about him, that they wanted to see him happy and comfortable, that they would wish for him to finally find his home and with that the love of his life.

He was lost for words, he could no longer put his thoughts in order, could no longer really grasp what was going on and what kind of holiday souvenir his sister and his brother-in-law had given him.

"You could possibly enjoy this year's holiday souvenir for the rest of your life," his sister's voice penetrated his ears - muffled.

In any case, it was a very extraordinary souvenir - and at the moment he didn't know how to accept it, how to handle this souvenir, what and if he should and wanted to make something out of it.


	2. An Extraordinary Distraction

_**\- Wednesday, March/25 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Who would have guessed at the beginning of the year that today, in the middle of the week and in the middle of the day, he would be lying on the couch all cosy in sweatpants and a jumper, enjoying peace and quiet, all alone and secluded, without work?

He wouldn't have guessed.

And yet he was lying on the couch, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, all cosy in sweatpants and a jumper - under normal circumstances he would have actually gone to work today, but now he was forced to stay at home, because it was just impossible to think of working on a film set right now.   
It was unusual.   
Still unfamiliar.  
It was a strange feeling.

He wasn't without any work; he still had work to do - but his work was currently limited to reading scripts, skyping with producers and colleagues, interviews via Skype or other Apps, small projects that could then be seen online.

Martin lounged on the couch - on the coffee table an empty cup of tea, an empty cup of coffee, an empty cereal bowl and an empty plate that had contained sandwiches.

He could be incredibly lazy, but most of the time he didn't have the time to do so.  
Now he had time to be lazy, but now he didn't really feel like it. 

And he had to admit that a few days ago his sister had given him another reason to prefer working hard on a film set.  
He just couldn't get her souvenir out of his mind. 

Today it was especially hard - he just couldn't get his mind off this souvenir; he couldn't turn his mind off, couldn't convince it to stop thinking about the souvenir.  
He had tried, oh yes he had.  
But his head had clearly shown him who wore the trousers.

Distraction from this Malta distraction he had sought – but he hadn’t found it.

He had tried reading a really interesting book - the book was now lying on the couch with him; he had read a few pages, but he had to confess that he didn't even remember what he had read, because his thoughts had constantly wandered to his sister's souvenir.  
He had tried to distract himself with his mobile phone - but it was now lying on the couch with its battery almost empty; he had occupied himself completely senselessly with a game, but he had constantly lost, because this souvenir had distracted him again and again, shutting down his concentration.  
He had tried a short walk - but he had strolled through Hampstead Heath without really paying attention to his path and suddenly he had found himself back at his front door without knowing which way he had actually walked.  
He had tried a jigsaw - but he had sat in front of the pieces for two hours and hadn't even managed to separate the edge pieces from the middle pieces.  
He had tried crossword puzzles - but although he really loved doing them, even so he could normally solve them quite quickly, he had brooded over the simplest questions without coming up with an answer.

This souvenir had a firm grip on his mind - he couldn't manage not to think about this woman from Malta for days now.

At the moment he was trying music, but he had already found out that even music was no distraction to take his mind off this extraordinary distraction.

He had wanted to distract himself to stop thinking about this souvenir, but during his distracting activities he had let the souvenir distract him quite easily.

He just couldn't stop thinking about that souvenir, couldn’t stop thinking about that woman. 

Martin sighed, slid completely onto the couch, put his hands over his face.  
He could hardly believe that this woman wasn’t giving him any peace.  
Martin shook his head in confusion and amazement, overwhelmed and overchallenged.

It was true that he had not yet found the love of his life - and that he would also really love to find and discover the love of his life.  
It was true that he missed this kind of love, that he hadn’t found his home, that he wanted to settle down, that he wanted to find his perfect match - that he wanted to find this person he was missing in his life without knowing who she was.

The problem was that one never knew where the love of one’s life was hiding, where home was hiding - perhaps in his case it was indeed this woman from Malta.

He took his hands away from his face.  
Maybe it wasn't the woman from Malta.  
He chewed on his lower lip.  
She truly seemed to be a very interesting woman - just from the stories, or rather the raving of his sister, this woman called Emma had aroused great interest.  
He opened his eyes.

He missed closeness and affection.   
He missed being in love and being loved.  
He missed feeling safe and sound.  
He missed togetherness.  
He missed that one person in his life who was his happiness and contentment.

In the last few days, he had been thinking about Emma Louisa De Laurentiis from Malta constantly – in the morning, at noon, in the evening, during the night; no matter what time of the day, his thoughts had actually circled around Emma Louisa De Laurentiis continuously.   
These thoughts had even made him nervous - not only because they overchallenged him; they had also made him positively nervous, euphorically nervous.   
These thoughts had gone round in circles, like many thoughts in his head - he hated it, he hated these circling thoughts, hated this part of himself; it was terrible and exhausting to always have to analyse and think everything through instead of turning off his head and just doing something; just daring and doing - it was actually clear what he wanted to do and yet his head still rejected to accept it by analysing it over and over again. 

His twin sister was quite different - she just does and dares, and so far it had mostly worked for her quite well.   
Laura would probably have contacted Emma from Malta a long time ago - and he was still thinking about it, even though she had fascinated him by Laura's words alone, even though his fingers had been tingling to contact her for days now.

To be fair it was also Laura’s fault that his distractions were no good, because of course she hadn't let him forget about her souvenir in the last few days.  
With little teasing messages and purposefully sent pictures of Malta, she had constantly reminded him of it. 

He had to smile.  
Actually, it was quite sweet.  
The smile grew bigger.

She had been quite euphoric when she had told him about Emma.   
And he couldn't remember a situation where Laura had been wrong about him and some advice for him.  
If Laura had the feeling that this Emma from Malta could possibly be his home, then she had either already predicted the future, or he would at least have a very magical and intimate friendship with this woman.  
Only for that he would have to contact her.

The music had already died away in his ears, although it could still be heard in the living room.

Should he actually dare it?  
After all, she was 18 years younger than him.  
But did that really matter that much?  
Maybe he wouldn't even notice their age difference.  
His head was unsure.  
While being in a relationship with Jeanne, he had noticed the 10-year age difference - every now and then, a little too clearly, a little too unpleasantly; a reason why he had not been able to enjoy the relationship any longer.  
But how did he know that Emma was not a patch on him in terms of experience and maturity? How could he be sure that he would actually feel the age difference of 18 years?  
Maybe she actually was his perfect match; maybe her personality, her nature, her values, views on the world and experiences, her passions and behaviour, would make him forget that she was much younger.  
But maybe he was also too old for her - after all, it had to fit on both sides; she was not only 18 years younger than him; he was also 18 years older than her. 

He bit his lower lip - he realised that he was no longer listening to the music; he realised that this woman from Malta had distracted him again, although he had wanted to distract himself from her.

It was amazing that he couldn't get this woman out of his mind, that he kept letting himself be distracted by thoughts of her.   
It was really amazing that he had to think about her again and again, that his fingers were tingling to actually contact her, because he knew nothing more about her than what his sister's raving words had told him.  
He had never even seen this woman, had never spoken to her himself, had never heard her voice; he only knew her name, her age and what his sister's few raving words had told him about her.  
And yet he could not stop himself from thinking of her.

Once he put age and insecurities out of his mind, there was really nothing that could stop him from reaching out to her, for she had undoubtedly cast her spell on him - and yet there was one question.

How?

He couldn't just call her.   
What should he say when she accepted his call?  
What reason would he have to call her?  
How could he plausibly explain to her why he was in possession of her Skype contact?

Laura had had an answer to that in the course of their Skype evening - 'Just tell her that I gave it to you, after all you are my brother.'

Martin shook his head.

These words practically screamed of a sister trying to play the matchmaker for her brother.  
Besides, it didn't explain why he actually took this contact as an opportunity to get in touch, after all, it wasn't him who had met her, it was his sister and Lamar who had met Emma in Malta. 

What reason could there be to get in touch with her?  
What excuse could he use?

He closed his eyes.

He had to admit something to himself, even though he had actually already done so - as perplexed and overchallenged as he had been when skyping with his sister, he had been incredibly fascinated by this woman right away; her age and this unusual souvenir were actually not really a reason for his brooding and reticence at the moment; it was: ‘not finding an excuse to call her’.

The musical distraction had failed to distract him from that extraordinary Emma-distraction for almost an hour now - for almost an hour his thoughts had been circling around this extraordinary distraction he had actually wanted to get distracted from.

He opened his eyes abruptly.

Music!  
Of course!

Laura had told him that she owned a record store that was also a café.  
She had told him that they had actually wanted to buy a record for him, that Emma also owned some rarities.

Music was the solution.

He could contact Emma and claim that Laura had given him her contact because of the records – and that he would now get in touch with her to ask for some records in person; since Laura had also mentioned that there was no website.  
It was a nice gesture, an unobtrusive gesture; after all Laura and Lamar seemed to have got on very well with Emma.  
Besides, it was plausible - he loved music and he loved records; it was a way of asking for a record, buying it and having it sent to him.

The music hadn't distracted him from Emma, but maybe the music had brought Emma a little closer to him.

After all, what did he have to lose?

He wanted to find out more about this mysterious woman, and Laura wasn't helping him:  
‘I found her and gave you her Skype contact, if you want to find out more about her, you will have to call her and ask her yourself, Martin.’  
He could still hear his sister’s voice.

It was an unusual way to meet and to get to know someone, but this year was pretty unusual anyway - a little more adventure and unusualness wouldn't hurt him.  
And maybe Emma from Malta could make this year even more extraordinary – in a very positive way.  
Maybe Emma could sweeten the lockdown for him.  
Maybe he could sweeten the lockdown and this year for her.

What did he have to lose?

He was alone - he wanted to be together.  
He was not in love - but he wanted to love and to be loved.  
He had no home, had not yet settled down with someone - but he eagerly wanted to do so.

A little adventure couldn't hurt him either.  
He would finally unwrap this extraordinary souvenir.


	3. Truth Or Excuse?

_**\- Wednesday, March/25 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

In the early afternoon, Martin had bravely decided to contact Emma, giving her a little half-excuse, which he could easily turn into the truth - after all, he loved records and was always on the lookout for rarities.

It had become early evening.

Martin had bravely decided to get in touch with her, but now he was sitting rather nervously in front of the computer in his office - neatly dressed, even his hair all done and styled, but his courage was almost completely gone.

He had searched for Emma's username, had found it at the first attempt.  
His heart was beating fast and excitedly.  
Skype told him that the person whose username he had been looking for was online.  
It was his chance - a chance he was risking for 13 minutes now.  
The cursor of the mouse was already covering the video call icon. 

He took a deep breath - why was he excited and nervous?  
His excuse was perfectly plausible.

He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut, pressed the left mouse button, heard the ringing - now he had dared to get in touch with her; slowly he opened one eye, then the second one, waiting anxiously if she would even accept the call; perhaps he should have written to her first.  
Who would take a video call from a stranger?

He ran his hand through his hair, rubbed the back of his neck, cleared his throat nervously.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, suddenly looking into another face - speechless, he looked into the face that Skype clearly presented to him, but the woman on the other side looked at him equally speechless.

There she sat - unmistakably younger than him, light brown thick hair with natural blonde-golden accents falling openly to her shoulders and her collarbone. Lips full yet dainty and delicate; soft little freckles dotted her cheeks, dainty button nose and forehead; skin lightly tanned; chocolate brown eyes gazing at him speechlessly yet with a slight golden touch.  
There she sat - beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, breathtakingly naturally beautiful; she just took his breath away.

They looked at each other, glanced at each other across the screen - amazed, scrutinising, speechless, curious.

Martin blinked, ran his fingers nervously through his grey hair.  
If it turned out that this woman was indeed his perfect match, then he had to be pretty fucking lucky that this young and breathtakingly beautiful woman wanted to get involved with him - a man who would turn 50 next year, and who not only had grey hair but also wrinkles and bags under his eyes.  
The insecurity about himself sat deep inside him.

He finally had to say something.  
He couldn't just stare at her.

"Hello,... I'm Martin, Laura's brother." More words did not leave his throat, could not escape his throat, he was absolutely speechless with entrancement.

A natural and genuine smile appeared on Emma's face.  
She raised her hand, greeted him beckoning.

"Hello stranger, who wouldn’t have needed to introduce himself at all," a feminine tender and warm voice said. "I saw you on a screen yesterday - but it was the telly screen back then, not the laptop screen," she winked. "So, you're with Laura and Lamar."

Martin leaned back comfortably in his chair as Emma leaned back comfortably too - the voice sounded great and suited her very well.  
He liked what he saw.  
He liked what he heard.  
He liked what he had learned about Emma from Laura.

"Yeah,... sometimes I'm on other screens too." he winked charmingly now too, amazed that he could still feel his nervousness but was also comfortable enough to show his charming and flirty manners directly. "And yes, I'm with Laura and Lamar."  
Emma smiled from ear to ear.  
"I've noticed that too,… that you're on different screens a lot. I like it." she winked. "You have a very likeable sister and a very likeable brother-in-law too. We skyped yesterday afternoon. I must say, her brother seems quite likeable too.", her voice also flirted. 

Martin smiled, eyed her and her surroundings – fortunately, Skype showed him her picture very clearly.  
He liked that she didn't go on talking about his profession, but that she directed the conversation towards his sister.

"I've already heard that you two got along very well. They loved spending time with you, and they had a lot of fun with you as their tour guide. And I'm sure a lot of the pictures they sent me, which made me jealous, were taken when they were with you."  
Emma showed him a big tender smile, brushing her hair behind her right ear, presenting delicate elegant fingers and beautiful golden earrings.  
Her smile was infectious.  
His voice was heard again.  
"What I see in the background right now makes me jealous too."

Goosebumps spread over his body quite unexpectedly - her hearty and honest, young and natural laugh was the trigger of it.

"I'm afraid I can't send a piece of the sea to you," she smirked. "I could try to send you a bit of the sun, if you miss that in London too."  
"Try the sun, because it hasn't been here for a few days," Martin smiled.  
"I'll do my best," she winked. "Maybe you could send me a bar of chocolate in return - Salted Caramel from Cadbury, you don't have to skimp on the size of the bar."

Martin grinned at Emma who appeared to be sitting on a balcony; directly in the setting sun, wearing a T-shirt and a beam on her face that made the flawless face even more beautiful; in the background he could see the vast sea glistening in the setting sun; in the background he could see the stunning sunset.

"Don't you have Cadbury chocolate in Malta?"  
"Cadbury chocolate is available, but unfortunately not salted caramel - and believe me, I've been looking all over Malta’s islands," she smirked.  
"Are you only addicted to salted caramel or are there other vices I can send you?" grinned Martin, his excuse already completely forgotten.  
"I'll tell you my other vices at a later date, otherwise you'll know too much about me - and besides, I'd make you my dealer at the same time," Emma grinned cheerfully, brushing her hair behind her ear again.

Martin's laugh sounded hearty and warm, nasal and natural. 

His heart was beating amazingly fast and excitedly, though he felt incredibly calm and relaxed.  
His ears were pricked up, listening to her voice very attentively and interestedly the whole time, while his head stored the information and impressions.  
His stomach was sending various feelings through his body, but none of them could longer be described as uncertainty, reticence or doubt.

The little small talk turned into a chat, the chat into a conversation - a conversation about Malta and London, a conversation about Laura's & Lamar’s holiday and all the adventures Emma had had with them, conversations about this and that, but there was no mention of a record shop.

The small talk had turned into a chit-chat and a conversation that had entertained Martin a lot.  
As his sister had already suspected, he had actually hung on her every word, very attentive and interested.  
As his sister had suspected, he felt absolutely comfortable with her.  
It was fantastic to listen to her, to listen to her stories and also to perceive how she hung on his every word when he told a story, when he was leading the conversation or directed it to another topic. 

For a brief moment, his eyes noticed a small indicator - an indicator that told him how long this Skype call lasted.

2:57:48

Almost three hours ago, Martin had dared to contact her, and they were still talking.  
Martin blinked several times; amazed and dumbfounded - he hadn't even noticed how the time had passed, although he should have, because Emma was now no longer sitting in the setting sun but was illuminated by a lamp; behind her he could no longer make out the sunset, but the dark sky.  
At just after 5pm he had dared to contact her, now it was just after 8pm, which meant it was already just after 9pm at her place.  
He had been so attached to her every word and so comfortable with her that he hadn't noticed that almost three hours had gone by.

"My dear unexpected Skype partner... ", Emma began with a smile. "I'm going to get a blanket, because it's getting a bit chilly - and then I have a question for you. Please don't run away, I'll be right back," she smiled gently into the camera.  
"I'll be waiting for you," Martin smiled.

His eyes tracked her movements; he followed her with his eyes until he could no longer see her, until all he could make out was the empty outdoor chair, illuminated by the light.

His heart was beating fast and wild, his fingers were drumming impatiently on the desk.  
He waited impatiently for her, hoping that this Skype conversation would last all night long.  
He felt good, fantastic, simply breathtaking good and calm and comfortable - he hadn't expected such an intensity, he honestly hadn't expected it at all.  
They were absolutely on the same page - on a very magical and special same page.  
He felt really good, euphoric, delighted and cheerful - and he felt incredibly comfortable and warm.  
His head thanked him for the courage to contact her, his stomach thanked him too, his heart secretly thanked him without him fully realising it. 

The picture changed - Emma sat down again, a grey knitted plaid around her shoulders; she wrapped herself up in it.  
She looked down at the laptop and the camera again, beaming at Martin, waving at him as she had done at the beginning of their Skype meeting.

"I'm back."  
"I almost didn't notice," Martin smirked.  
"Doofus." grinned Emma, sticking her tongue out at him.

They grinned at each other, smirked, then smiled again - just looking at each other for a few moments, not speaking a word, eyeing each other. 

Emma cleared her throat after a few moments, brushed her hair behind her ear sheepishly, played briefly with her earlobe; and then she smiled again confidently and naturally.

"I'm sure Laura forwarded you my Skype contact... but why did you call me?", Emma asked a question they had both completely forgotten due to all the chatting and fun.

Martin rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat as well.  
"Do you want to hear my excuse, or the truth?" he now asked - having completely forgotten to present his excuse at the beginning of the call, as they had been immediately engrossed in an entertaining small talk; the excuse had taken a back seat almost 3 hours ago.  
"Both." she smiled. "I'd like to hear the truth first and then the excuse you wanted to use to cover up the truth." the warm tender voice breathed. 

Martin ran his hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck again.  
His heart excitedly pounded a little faster.  
Why hadn't he just told her the plausible excuse?

"Well... Laura didn't just give me your Skype contact," he began. "It was my souvenir – you… were my… souvenir. She raved about you a lot - and had the feeling that... that… we would get on very well. She didn't tell me everything about you; she said that if I wanted to get to know you, I would have to get in touch with you. And what she told me about you… well, it sounded incredibly interesting. I couldn't get you out of my head,... so I did what Laura was hoping for - I got in touch with you." His nasal and warm voice sounded charming and flirty, yet also nervous and excited.

Emma smiled sheepishly and flattered, brushed her hair behind her ear again, eyed Martin with brown eyes - but Martin couldn't see that her heart was also pounding fast and excitedly.

"And what’s the excuse you wanted to use to cover up the truth about Laura’s matchmaking attempt?" the voice breathed softly and excitedly – speaking out Laura's intention.

Martin rubbed the back of his neck - heart beating a little faster; Emma had clearly realised what Laura's souvenir had been about.  
Playing the matchmaker, playing Cupis; getting her brother a girlfriend.

"I wanted to tell you that Laura only gave me your contact because of the record store - I wanted to tell you that I contacted you to ask for rare records I am looking for," he admitted openly and honestly.

Emma smiled, her eyes fixed on him. 

"I like the truth combined with Laura wanting to hook two people up with each other much better - although I'd be happy to tell you about the rarities you're interested in, of course" she breathed softly, revealing that she was mostly interested in him after these last three hours.  
Martin propped his chin on his hand, smiling comfortably and encouraged, eyeing her with blue eyes.  
"After three hours with you, all I can say is that I like the truth better too," he said charmingly, his voice flirtatious. "We can talk about the rarities another time," he smiled and looked at her from soft blue eyes.

Relaxation and comfort displaced the nervousness that had arisen because of the truth.  
Now he hadn't even needed the excuse he had been looking for over the last few days. 

He looked towards Malta, smiled at Emma who was smiling at the camera - she looked relaxed but also exhilarated; she clearly conveyed that she was enjoying talking to him, that she liked it, that she was having fun; she clearly conveyed that she was interested in him, that she wanted to get to know him.  
He looked towards Malta and saw a young woman who showed honest and sincere interest in his person, whose eyes shone and sparkled, whose smile stretched across her face, whose eyes eyed him vividly and curiously, whose smile gave him a warm feeling.

He had to admit that he actually liked the truth much better, even if he didn't really want to be set up with someone; he didn't like it when people interfered in his love affairs in that way, he preferred to take it into his own hands, in his own way and at his own pace.  
But now he had to admit that he appreciated his sister's matchmaking attempt.  
This was just a beginning, this was just getting to know each other, yet he was very grateful to Laura and Lamar for the opportunity to experience this beginning at all. 

Telling the truth had made him nervous and shy - but now he felt very good and comfortable with this confession.  
There was no weird or tense feeling in him, even though Emma knew Laura was trying to set them up - there was just well-being and trust, fascination and comfort; there was no half-truth standing between them now, but the pure truth.  
It didn't feel like they were thinking any further about this matchmaking attempt, but simply taking this today's extraordinary acquaintance as an opportunity to actually get to know each other and let things take their course.

"My dear Skype acquaintance, we've been skyping for three hours now, but I'd really like it if we enjoy our chat for another few minutes or hours. Or are you no longer in the mood?" smiled Emma.  
"I'd also really like to chat with you a little while longer - but I'd leave you alone for a moment and get something to drink. My mouth is pretty dry from the great conversations we had," Martin smiled.  
"I'll join you - I'll take advantage of your absence to get myself a drink too."  
"See you in a minute then, Emma." smiled the nasal voice.  
"See you in a minute, Martin." smiled the warm female voice.

For about five minutes the cameras failed to capture any faces.

Martin sat down again in his comfortable office chair, put the drinks down on the desk, glanced at the screen - and immediately he could see that Emma seemed to have changed places.  
He tilted his head, seeing that she was sitting on the floor in front of a couch.

"Well, there you are again," Emma's voice sounded amiably.  
"Where did you take me while I was away?"  
"To the living area - I did get a bit nippy." she smiled and looked at him with interest. "What did you get yourself?"  
Martin held a cup up to the camera, then a glass, smiling at her afterwards.  
"Tea and water. And what are you drinking?"  
A cup and a glass were shown to him.  
"Tea and Kinnie."  
Martin tilted his head.  
"What's Kinnie?"  
"A bitter lemonade - made from bitter orange and wormwood."  
"Is Kinnie a typical Maltese drink?" Martin asked with interest.  
"Yes, it’s the national drink," Emma smiled. 

They smiled at each other and toasted each other with their glasses. 

"To the truth and a long Skype night," Emma breathed.  
"To the truth and a long Skype night.", Martin nodded in affirmation.

They sipped at their glasses.

"Why did you just take my call without knowing who wanted to start a video call with you?"  
"I was curious," Emma smiled. "After all, I could still have 'hung up' if I hadn't liked what I was seeing or hearing," she added. "I've really liked what I've seen and heard so far though," she flirted in a warm voice.  
"And you’re sure that you still want to enjoy what you see and hear all night long?" he also asked in a flirty and warm voice.  
"I would actually like that very much – is it the same for you?" she asked gently.  
"I would like it too, yes. I would really like it if I could enjoy what I see and hear for the rest of the night - but should you want to go to sleep later, that would be okay too... as long as we arrange to skype again before you’re leaving for the bed." he said in a charming voice.  
"And if we skype all night long?" she asked with a smile on her face, her voice calm and gentle.  
"That wouldn't change the fact that I'd like to skype with you more often," Martin smiled.

Emma's eyes sparkled with a smile.  
"I like that a lot."  
Her eyes scrutinised him, flitting gently over his face.

They were silent for a few moments.  
They were silent yet smiling - looking at each other, musing, gazing into a face that was still so new and yet so familiar.  
They were silent but their facial expressions said enough.

There was joy, interest and curiosity.  
There was familiarity, comfort and relaxation.  
There was dreaminess.  
There was euphoria, elation and cordiality.  
There was balance, warm-heartedness and naturalness.


	4. You Little Tease

_**\- Thursday, April/02 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's House -** _

Nine days.  
Nine days had passed since he had first skyped with Emma - and indeed, on that day, they had savoured skyping with each other.  
They had sat in front of the screen for a very long time; Emma on the floor in front of her sofa, Martin in his office.  
It hadn't just turned into three more hours.  
They had burnt the candle at both ends - chatting without pausing for breath; about music, about books, about Malta and London, the world and nullities.  
They had been able to chat and jabber brilliantly with each other.  
And if they hadn't almost fallen asleep in front of the screen at just before five in the morning, they would have had no problem finding more interesting topics to chat about.  
After almost 10 hours, they had ended their first Skype chat with a 'good night and sleep well' and a date for a second chat.

That same evening, they had met again in front of the screen.

For nine days, not a single day had gone by without them skyping.  
They had arranged to meet every day - although they had not extended their last Skype chats to almost 10 hours, they had nevertheless spent their time together in front of the screen savouring it, no matter how long or short it had lasted.

Laura had hit the mark.  
Emma was just great, absolutely fantastic - in fact perfect in his eyes and for his understanding when he thought of what he was looking for, what he wanted, what was important to him, what he needed, what he wished for, what he longed and craved.  
She was breathtaking and enchanting.

Laura had not exaggerated her rhapsody and raving.  
In fact, they truly shared the same intense passion and love for books and culture, art and music - and not only that; they also shared the same taste in books, art and music. It was wonderful to talk to her euphorically about a particular book, band, genre of music, musician or art.  
And as far as he could tell, she dressed just as Laura had described it – very well, stylish. He really liked her style very much.

Laura had not promised too much.  
Emma was deliciously funny and quick-witted - she made him laugh with an incredible ease: with her jokes, her repartee, her dry humour, her irony and sarcasm and her very charming cheeky manner. It was wonderful to laugh with her; it was wonderful to laugh because of her and to make her laugh; and it was wonderful to hear and see her laugh.  
She was, as Laura had mentioned, actually very authentic, natural and absolutely down to earth. Something that he liked incredibly well about her. She radiated an incredible amount of calmness and composure, a great deal of honesty and naturalness - she was everything but aloof, arrogant or pretentious.

Laura had not lied with a single syllable.  
Emma was great at entertaining him, telling great stories.  
She was actually fantastic to chat with, and indeed he could hang on her every word for hours and hours.  
She was really extraordinary; and in fact, there were not only an incredible number of similarities; Emma not only combined what he wanted in a woman, he had also actually discovered dissimilarities in the right places.  
It was like a puzzle, if you want to bring two pieces together perfectly, you’ll need two pieces that are a match but also have the right dissimilarities at the right places to make them fit.  
And what could he say, she actually balanced him out perfectly - and after these nine days he also had the feeling that not only she could give him a lot, but that he could give her a lot as well.

Nine days had passed since their first contact.  
For nine days they had skyped with each other every day.  
Nine days - and he had to admit to himself that he not only thought that she was very interesting, but that he also had a huge crush on her.

He had not expected that.

He had often had a good feeling about love and a woman - sometimes it hadn’t ended in a relationship at all, sometimes it hadn’t last long; the good feeling he had had about Amanda and their love had turned out to be not what he had been looking for; the good feeling about Jeanne had been a failure as well.  
The good feeling, he was having right now was different; it was a different quality – not that he was convinced they would become a couple; it was more about her being his perfect match. 

Emma had stolen his heart a little, maybe she had stolen a little more of it, maybe she had stolen his whole heart with the first smile.  
She was extraordinary.  
Their getting to know each other had been extraordinary.  
The feelings towards her were extraordinary.  
Emma had turned his head a little, maybe a little more, maybe completely, while they had burnt the candle on both ends nine days ago. 

The 30-year-old had made a lasting very special impression on him; and if he was completely honest, he felt the wild rumble of his heart and the tingling of his stomach quite frequently and intensely.  
What was she doing to him?  
The 30-year-old made him forget completely that there were 18 years between them, even if it was absolutely impossible to miss that fact when looking at them.

Martin closed his laptop, he had been skyping with Emma until a few minutes ago.  
He put the laptop on the coffee table, rubbed his face, ran his hand through his grey hair, stretched and yawned.  
It was already close to half past eleven.  
Slowly he got up, stretched again - it was time to sleep; he was awake since seven in the morning.

He took his empty teacup into the kitchen, still feeling buoyant, still beaming all over his face.  
His body told him clearly that he had enjoyed seeing and hearing Emma.  
It had been fantastic again to chat with her, to hear her, to see her, to laugh with her, to dream with her, to be entertained by her and to be childish with her.  
Once again his body was filled with warmth, peace and relaxation - it was a fantastic feeling.

He rinsed the cup, put it in the drainer, left the kitchen with a good and satisfied feeling.  
As unusual and extraordinary as this year was, as much as he had had to get used to a different daily routine,… so far this year had pleased him quite a bit in other respects and had held two unexpected but lovely surprises in store for him. 

One of these unexpected surprises was in Malta, her name was Emma, and she was 30 years old.  
The other unexpected surprise was in the house with him, called Joe and Gracie, and was 14 and still 11 for a few weeks. 

His children were an unexpected surprise, as he had not expected to be able to spend that much time with them this year.  
Actually, he would now be away on business - but the lockdown kept him in London, very close to his children.  
Actually, they would have been at school at least throughout the day and out with friends in the afternoons, playing, sports, spending time in the theatre club, busy with other hobbies, but the lockdown had closed the schools and had put most leisure activities on hold.  
The lockdown allowed him to spend much more time with his kids than in recent years, actually, the lockdown allowed him to spend his time with them more intensively than ever before.

The day with the two of them had been quite exhausting today and had almost cost him all his nerves.  
His patience had snapped several times.  
Several times he would have liked to wring their necks or at least launch them into outer space.  
He had tried to keep calm, but he had burst with anger several times, his voice had risen again and again, and the two of them had been given a free sample of swearing admonishments and reprimands several times today.

Even though he himself had not liked being in school, he really liked teaching his children - and in general he had always enjoyed helping them with their homework or studying.  
But today he had almost lost his nerve.  
Since Monday he had been responsible for playing the teacher, Amanda had done it for the last week. For the first three days it had worked very well, but today his children's motivation, concentration and attention had been everywhere, except for the schoolwork he was supposed to do with them. 

They had not listened to him, had only done half of the homework or had not read them properly and therefore worked on them incorrectly; they had not taken his advice, their ears and eyes had been everywhere but on the schoolwork. If he had left them alone for a few moments, he had heard them chatting immediately; if he had sent them into different rooms and looked after them, he had caught them on their mobile phones; he had taken away their mobile phones, but they had also found other things to do in his absence, so that he had finally ordered them to the kitchen table - he had sat down with them, making sure that they did their schoolwork.  
He hadn’t tortured and tormented them through the day and the today’s schoolwork; he had even taken them for a walk in the morning, hoping that they would be able to concentrate afterwards; he had given them a long lunch break, had even played with them outside in the garden, had been silly with them, had gotten up to nonsense with them - but as soon as they had sat down in front of the schoolwork, the perfect world had collapsed. They had been complaining all day, nagging him, not following his instructions, deliberately provoking him, testing their limits, overstepping their boundaries, bitching and boycotting everything in between - and even clear admonishments and even clearer reprimands and right royal dressing downs hadn’t made them play by the rules.

The last telling off had come while watching television - the day finally over, the world in order again and he himself once more the greatest dad in the world in the eyes of his children.  
But Gracie and Joe had a rumpus with each other over the telly programme, had bickered with each other, almost knocking the remote control over each other's head.  
The last telling off of the day had made them follow the rules immediately - they had spent the rest of the evening sitting peacefully on the couch. 

He could have just spent the day without the schoolwork, but he knew his children well enough and he knew that they would not want to make up for the missed schoolwork in the next days. 

Despite all the shouting, the tireless swearing, despite the many loud admonitions and reprimands and right royal dressing downs, there had still been lots of kisses and lots of loving hugs for him when he had put them to bed. 

They had still loved him all day long.  
He had still loved them all day long.

Martin used the toilet again on the ground floor, then walked up the stairs, making his way to his bedroom.

Emma had done an excellent job of distracting him from that dreadful day, even listening to his complaints, grumblings and nagging about the day and the children.  
She had calmed him down afterwards.  
He had been able to calm down quite brilliantly with her; with her he had been able to tick off this day; and in the process he had noticed that he could just be the way he was, with her he didn't have to hold back anything at all.  
She had listened to him, she had listened to all his complaints, all his grumblings and nagger; she hadn't judged him, she had been able to understand him, but she had also told him that Joe and Gracie would probably have liked to launch him into outer space too; she had talked with him about the day and the kids’ behaviour, had given him hope for the next day, had calmed him down and had distracted him - and after a few minutes of talking about that dreadful day, she had changed the subject.  
Exactly what he had needed - to vent his anger for a moment, someone who listened, understanding, honest words, a short conversation about it, reassurance, a little humour, distraction, someone who let him forget this day after a few minutes with the authentic changing of the subject.  
It was just great that Emma was able to give him exactly that.

Wearing a pair of loose boxers and a jumper, he entered his bedroom on bare feet. 

Smiling, he stopped - the bedside light was switched on and across the bed Gracie was lounging under the covers.  
Smiling, he glanced at her, tilted his head - his daughter was awake.

Martin came closer, stopped in front of the bed, looked down at his beaming eleven-year-old daughter.  
"Move over a bit - I'd like some space too."  
Gracie grinned, slid to the side, no longer lying across the bed - she turned onto her side and lifted the covers.  
"Is that enough room for you, daddy?"  
Smiling, Martin sat down with a nod.

He swung his legs into bed, slid under the covers, turned to Gracie.  
He raised his hand, caressed her head, brushed her blonde hair behind her ear. 

"Hey little darling. Are you okay?"  
"I just missed you."

Martin smiled, nudged her nose, then caressed her cheek gently.  
He leaned in, kissed her forehead paternally soft.

"You're up pretty late.", Gracie smiled after the kiss.  
"So are you.", Martin winked.  
"I woke up and wanted to be with you."  
"You could have come to me, you know that, right?"  
"But then you would have hugged me, you would have given me some kisses, you would have cuddled with me for a few minutes... and then you would have sent me back to my bed - now you can hug me here, you can give me kisses here, you can cuddle with me here,... and then I can just 'accidentally' fall asleep and cuddle with you all night long."  
"Clever." he smirked.  
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" she asked, smiling.

Martin nodded, breathed another fatherly kiss on her forehead.

Gracie beamed at him, scooted closer, wrapped her arms around him, pressed a big kiss to his cheek.  
She snuggled up to him, nuzzled into his warm body, enjoying his heartbeat and the paternal warmth.  
Martin hugged her, holding her protectively and tenderly in a fatherly way.  
He put one hand on her back, placed the other at the back of her head; he breathed a kiss on her hair - listening to Gracie's voice. 

"The pandemic is kind of scary, but I really like that we can be with you so often due to it. It's great that Mum doesn't mind us being with you for a fortnight at a time now, and only one week with her before we're here again for a fortnight."  
"I also think it's very nice to see you so often at the moment and to have you with me. And I also think it's very great that Mum gives us so much time together. I miss you a lot, so I'm kind of glad about this lockdown - because now I finally have a lot of time to enjoy with you."  
"I miss you too, Daddy!"

Gracie snuggled tighter into his embrace, feeling another kiss in her hair.  
It was lovely in her daddy's hug – he truly was giving the best hugs in the whole universe. 

"It's great that you have to stay at home and that you have so much time for us now, because I really miss you - even though you're a little tease."

Martin laughed heartily, pushed her a little out of his embrace, looked into her grinning face.

"You're pretty cheeky, you silly thing. But I miss you pretty badly too - despite you being an incredibly annoying little tease."

Gracie laughed, tousling through her dad's soft grey hair.  
"You're worse. You’re much more of an incredibly annoying little tease than me."  
"That's not how I perceive it," Martin grinned. "You're MUCH worse than me. You’re bitching and bugging and annoying until you drive me crazy. You proved that very well today, along with Joe." he was still grinning.  
"Nooooo, you're MUCH worse than me. You’re annoying, bitching and grumbling and bugging until YOU drive ME crazy. You proved that very well today." she grinned, mimicking most of his words.  
Again, she tousled his soft grey hair - still grinning.

A suddenly very big and wide smile appeared on her face after the little funny teasing - quite gentle it was.  
All of a sudden she pressed a big kiss onto his lips. 

"I love you tremendously, Daddy."  
"I love you very much too, little one."

He pursed his lips with a smile, exchanging another daddy-daughter kiss with her.  
His eyes looked at her warmly, fatherly loving.  
Again, he pulled her into his arms, letting her nuzzle him.

Gracie turned around in his arms, reaching out to the bedside lamp, switching it off; she nestled her back against his warm body, clasping his embracing arms with her hands.  
She closed her eyes, felt the warmth her father radiated outwardly and mentally, felt a kiss in her hair, felt his fatherly loving and protective embrace, felt his unconditional love.

"You've done well today." she smiled with her eyes closed, almost ready to fall asleep.  
"If tomorrow turns out the same, I'll lock you in the garden hut, gagging you and tying you up," he threatened her with an obvious smirk.

He made his daughter laugh, liked that sound.  
He smiled to himself, hugged her a little more protectively and lovingly, cuddlier and more snugly.  
Gosh - he loved this little minx and tease to bits.

"I love you to bits, little one." he breathed tenderly and warm. "Sleep tight, cupcake."  
"Sleep tight too.", Gracie murmured, hugging his arms more too. "I love you phenomenally intense, Daddy." she smiled with her eyes closed - now ready to fall asleep.


	5. The Mystery Of Charlie Darlington

_**\- Wednesday, April/08 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Leaning back comfortably in the armchair, Martin crossed one leg over the other, putting the filled wine glass down on the coffee table next to him.  
His hand ran through his grey hair, which was not styled.

Wearing long pyjama trousers, a jumper and a dressing gown, he leaned in the armchair, turned a little more towards the coffee table, beamed into the laptop's camera.  
With a quick click, he had accepted Emma's video call, waved and smiled at her, letting her know he was just going to grab a glass of wine and then be all hers.

"Now I am all yours and you have my undivided attention," he smiled, his blue eyes bright and sparkly. 

Emma smiled at him, waved again, sitting on the floor in front of her couch as she often did when they skyped late at night.  
"Hello Martin!" her voice sounded, joyful and welcoming. "You've infected me, I got myself a glass of wine too. Though I wanted to give up alcohol for once today."  
Martin also waved to her once more.  
"Hello Emma!" his nasal voice beamed. He had to grin. "You shouldn't abandon traditions. During the last Skype chats we always had a glass of wine together. I'm sorely disappointed that you had to get up now to get a glass of wine as well."  
Emma grinned, now showing him her glass as proof.  
"We can't drink every night."  
"We do not drink at all,... we enjoy!... a glass of wine," Martin smirked. "And... "  
Emma interrupted him with a smirk, having raised her hand.  
"Please don't tell that bad joke about alcohol and disinfection."  
She looked at him pleadingly, smirking.

Martin laughed in amusement.

"I wasn't going to do that at all. You just interrupted me. I was going to say that it's nice to sit down with you, enjoying a glass of wine - I hope one day we can do that without that pesky technological invention between us." he breathed flirtatiously.  
Emma's smirk was dispelled by a warm smile.  
"I would be very happy about that too, because I also think it's very nice to enjoy a glass of wine with you during a great conversation," she breathed in a charming voice. "Until then, I'm glad that this annoying technical invention exists, because at least it makes these meetings seem like I'm sitting in a room with you, enjoying these conversations and the wine."

Martin picked up the wine glass, toasted Emma.  
"Then let's start enjoying ourselves now."  
"To another great evening, or rather another great night," Emma smiled, as the witching hour had been welcomed in England six minutes ago; as the witching hour had been welcomed in Malta sixty-six minutes ago.  
Martin smiled nodding, then sipped from his glass.

They put the glasses down, smiling at each other.

"So how was the school day at home?"  
"School days are over for now," he smiled. "They finished their assignments and now wanted to enjoy the official holidays, doing nothing for school for a change - actually, it's been Easter holidays since last week Friday," he told her. "We went outside for a bit - and then we enjoyed the day here at home,… mostly in the garden."  
"If they've done everything now, then they've earned their holidays and the time off, who knows what will happen after these holidays and what kind of assignments will be waiting for them then."  
Martin nodded at her with a smile.  
"How was your day?" he inquired, then tilted his head. "We haven't even talked about the record store and the café in all these days, I just noticed. Did you have to close?"

Emma tilted her head, picked up her glass of wine, twirled it in her hand - she smiled at Martin in London, eyed him and watched him.  
She heard honest interest in her person and situation.

"Not exactly. The record store is quite big, but we don't just sell records in it - it's also a café and people aren't allowed to sit there anymore. The record store is actually a big cosy room with armchairs and sofas, old tables and nostalgic chairs, and shelves full of records and books. The books are not for sale, it's more of a swap meet - you can bring books and leave them with us, and if you like one, you can take it home, or just read it during your visit. The records are for sale - there is a record player for the café that anyone can operate to put on records; and there are two additional record players if you want to buy a record and listen to it first; there are on-ear headphones for that as well. There is no service; if you want something to drink or eat, you have to come to the bar to get what you want. It's supposed to be a place to hang out, to dwell and to linger,… but it's not like that at the moment," she said, sipping her wine briefly. "We're not allowed to use the sitting accommodations because actually all the bars and restaurants, cafés and pubs have had to close - so we're just selling takeaway at the counter; the sandwiches, the cakes, pastries, tea and coffee, hot chocolate and cold drinks; all the stuff we normally have on the menu. We only let in a limited number of customers. Everyone has to use their own headphones - and we have changed the sale of the records a bit," she told him.

She glanced at Martin, who was still very interested, listening to her attentively while sipping his wine.  
It brought a smile to her lips.

"Generally, all our records had already been catalogued, so that when people asked about a particular record, we knew if that record was still in the shop or if we didn't have it; or if it was just behind the counter because it was an expensive rarity, and we didn’t want everyone to touch it all the time. We now have a website where all the records are listed - we've asked everyone to stop browsing through the records unnecessarily, but to go online, reserve it and then come to the shop, or buy the record online and have it sent to them. So far we haven't been hit that badly in Malta, that's why we don't have a complete lockdown yet, but we wanted to take a little precaution," she smiled.

Martin tilted his head, nodding.

"Well first I have to say - if your store was in London, I'd probably be there at least once a week enjoying time, music and tea," he smiled. "And it seems you've found quite a good solution during this difficult time. Are you still making enough money? Some of the smaller shops, stores and restaurants in London have already had to close their doors completely," he asked again, very interested and also worried.

Emma put her wine glass back on the table, still eyeing Martin - her eyes kept flitting over his face, which she could see very well in Malta; cheers to the excellent connection.

"Normally the store is packed from six in the morning until six in the evening. Some of our guests sit with us for several hours – there’s an old couple who stops by every Friday from six in the morning until ten or eleven. You know, everyone who sits down orders more than people who just come in to grab a sandwich or tea or whatever it is they crave. Normally we serve both types of costumers, at the moment we are just allowed to serve walk-in customers. At the moment, of course, the income is much lower due to the regulations, but since we are very popular and well-known, since we also sell records, our income is still higher than our expenses."  
Martin smiled, mused at her face as well – fortunately, the internet connection was good and so were their cameras; he could see her very clearly.  
"That's really nice to hear!" he said, relieved and sincere. "What's your record store called?" he smiled.  
"Steaming Records." she smiled to London.  
"Oh,... because of the steaming coffee and teacups?" he asked with a smile. "I like that name!"  
"Clever fellow." she winked flirtatiously.

Martin winked charmingly, then sipped his wine again.  
Emma smiled, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I suppose I should also add that I don't own the record store all by myself. My brother also owns fifty percent of it; we opened the store together."  
"That sounds great! Who came up with the idea? You or Matteo?" he asked.

Martin made himself a little more comfortable in the armchair.  
His sister had been right, he would probably have found it very difficult to leave this record store during a holiday in Malta.  
He smiled at Emma - he had already heard about Matteo, also about the fact that he was 2 years older; they had already talked about him, had also talked about his siblings; but until now he had not known that Matteo was also the owner of the record store. 

"Both of us," Emma smiled. "It was the fulfilment of a little dream we had. With the record store, we were able to combine our love for music and records, for books and nostalgia, cosiness and tranquillity to create a place to linger and dwell. The partial lockdown is not great, and I really feel sorry for all those who really need to be in the black - but for Matteo and me, the store is really just a hobby and a passion. We have employees, but we could pay them and also the expenses for the shop with the income from our actual professions - that's why we don't really need to worry about the existence of our store."

Martin blinked briefly – again, he had been hanging on her every word; it happened every time she started to talk; it was as if he was in another world when she was telling a little story; and gosh, he loved the sound of her voice. 

"What do you mainly do for a living?" he smiled questioningly, curious to know what she did for a living - and at the same time he liked to hear that she had made a dream come true, that this dream, despite being only a hobby, was passionately and carefully pursued, that she nevertheless cared very much about it and continued to pursue it. The love for books, for peace and quiet, nostalgia and records, for comfort and cosiness was an incredibly beautiful commonality, he thought.  
"Matteo is a model - he models for menswear; mostly dressier and elegant menswear. He's been photographed in countless fashion magazines." She had to smile. "Our parents weren't keen at first, they wanted him to study something - now they support him passionately."  
Martin allowed himself to be infected by her smirk. 

A charming smile appeared on his face, his voice flirting with her.  
"If he bears any resemblance to you, he's a very attractive man," the flirtatious voice breathed; he winked softly - and due to the good connection he could even see that her cheeks were blushing. "Have you fulfilled your parents' hopes?" he smiled questioningly, could see her flattered smile; it was showing him that she had liked his compliment very much.

The flattered smile turned into a broad grin.  
She shook her head.  
"I am an artist. I paint. And I’m also a photographer - I sell the pictures to magazines, like National Geographic; but I mainly paint."  
Martin tilted his head, smiling, impressed.  
"That sounds great! Can I admire your artwork somewhere?" he asked euphorically - he loved art, no wonder they had had such an amazing exchange about it so far; Emma not only loved art, but she was also an artist herself - he was impressed what she had done with her life so far, what she had accomplished in her life of 30 years.  
Emma smiled.  
"You can - even very close to you; you'd just have to visit the National Gallery or Portrait Gallery when they reopen," she winked.

Martin almost choked on his wine.

"Artworks of yours hang in the National Gallery and Portrait Gallery?" he asked again, just to be sure - he saw her looking into the camera with a humble smile. "I've been there so many times, which means I've seen at least two pieces of your art. I just don't remember reading your name before," he said, then shook his head in puzzlement. "When I asked you, I was thinking of a smaller gallery or art exhibition, not something like the National Gallery."  
Emma still smiled modestly.  
"I use another name for my paintings, other artworks and photographs."  
"Then would you mind telling me your artist’s name, so that the next time I visit the National Gallery or Portrait Gallery, I can gaze knowingly at your artwork, adoring and admiring it?" he asked flirtatiously.  
Emma smiled to London, flattered by his flirting - she felt comfortable, had the feeling that her secret was very safe with him; she trusted him very much.  
"Charlie Darlington."

And again, Martin choked on the wine he had been sipping.  
He coughed, then stared at her.

"The world has been puzzling over the identity of Charlie Darlington for close to eight years, and you casually tell me over a glass of wine that you are this exceptional artist?"

He had not exaggerated; in fact, people had been wondering who Charlie Darlington was, an artist or an artistess, for almost 8 years; they knew nothing, they had never been able to find out anything - and the few confidants had, of course, remained silent until now.  
It was a well-kept secret.  
The artworks were nostalgic - they were paintings as they had once been painted, whether around the 16th, 17th, 18th or 19th century, but even if the style was nostalgic and antique, modern elements were in each of the paintings and artworks; often objects that had been invented much later; hints of a modern time, and they were harmoniously included, often you only found these hints and objects after a closer look.  
He saw her paintings in the National Gallery and Portrait Gallery immediately in front of his eyes - he had admired and adored them many times, loved them very much; they were honestly his favourites, and they radiated not only great talent but also great passion for painting and for art.  
And there were not only these nostalgic paintings that hid a modern world in sometimes only small details; there were also works of art that were modern, that had been painted and yet looked entirely as if they were a high-resolution photograph - whether they were portraits or landscapes, in action or still life.

He blinked several times, had to sort out his thoughts and the information for a moment.  
He tilted his head, glanced at Emma, who was again brushing a strand behind her ear.

"I don't even have to wait for the museums to reopen; I can see your paintings in front of my eyes, know that you're exhibited in other galleries around the world - and most importantly, I'm sitting in a room where one of your paintings hangs."

Emma bit her lower lip, smiled, beamed at him.  
"You bought one of my paintings?"  
"Yes." nodded Martin enthusiastically. "One of the Christmas paintings. Wait. It's 'Capturing A Moment'", he beamed and slowly stood up. "I love your pictures and paintings! They are breathtakingly beautiful! I really had a hard time deciding when I bought the painting – I could hardly decide which one to buy. I bought it two years ago when there was an exhibition of your work in London at Christmas time. God, you really are incredibly talented! How can you be this good?!" he asked, taking the wireless camera that was on the laptop and had a much better resolution than the laptop's camera. He walked the camera around the living room, then showed Emma her own painting. "There you are. I love this painting!"  
Martin looked at the hanging painting.

It was done in the style of the 19th century - you could make out a family in a Christmas scene; mother, father, four children; the children kneeling and playing on the floor; the father in the background at a modern record player whose predecessor had been invented only 80 years later; the mother capturing the moment of the children playing in this Christmas scene with a modern camera; it was cosy in the parlour.

"I love Christmas," Martin said as he walked back to the armchair. "And I love family and cosiness, music and records and memories - and with this camera, the mother captures a moment, a memory for eternity," he enthused as he attached the camera to the laptop again. "Wow, that talent you have there is really extraordinary and unique! You're probably the first artist to achieve something in her lifetime that previous artists just achieved long after they were gone," he said, sitting down. "I really can't believe you're hanging in the National Gallery,... and the Louvre,... and so many other galleries around the world."

Emma stroked a strand behind her ear again – flattered and shyly.  
She needed to divert, his compliments flattered her a lot, too much; those compliments made her too nervous and shy, even if she was incredibly grateful and appreciative of his words.

"I don't think you want me hanging in the National Gallery or anywhere else in the world, because then you're having a conversation with my cursed undead spirit right now," she said cheekily, a grin on her face.

Martin held his stomach, laughed heartily, had to shiver at the thought of this creepiness.

"You're too humble.", he winked after a few moments - not only had he realised that he had overwhelmed her with his gushing compliments, but he had also realised that she was very grateful for them, that she liked it very much that he owned a painting of hers, that she valued his compliments and words very much. "A great attribute." he smiled softly. 

Emma smiled, sipping her wine glass.  
"Thank you - for all your words." she breathed now. "This painting has found a lovely home, the perfect home."  
She smiled softly at him, propped her elbow on her knee, had her legs tucked up, supported her head with her hand, looked almost dreamily at Martin in London.

Martin let his eyes wander over her face, over the soft and dreamy eyes.  
Home.  
The painting had found the perfect home, in her opinion.  
Perhaps not only had her painting found its perfect home, perhaps he too had found it a few days ago, quite unexpectedly and in an extraordinary way.

"Emma?" he asked in a soft and calm voice.  
"Yes?" she smiled.  
"Do you have any plans for Sunday?" he asked - voice still calm and gentle.  
"Not so far... " she smiled - glad that he didn't go on about Charlie Darlington, for she was indeed very modest and humble in that respect; one of the reasons why she hadn't revealed her identity so far.  
"Can I take you out on a date on Sunday... outside, to an ice cream parlour? For a delicious ice cream sundae?" he asked her - charming and flirtatious he had asked, but he had sensed his nervousness, his fast-beating heart, his tingling belly.

Emma tilted her head, smiled, eyed his figure in the screen, had listened to his soft voice and the question.

"You want to take me out on an ice cream sundae date?"  
"Yes,... on an extraordinary ice cream sundae date, on Sunday,... at 3pm, your time. I'd pick you up." he smiled.  
"I'm already looking forward to the ice cream sundae date on Sunday.", she beamed. 

Quickly, Martin's heart skipped a few beats.  
There he had not only revealed a secret today.  
There was also a painting hanging in his living room that Emma had painted - so in a way she was much closer than he could see her in front of his eyes.  
And there wasn't just the secret and this painting that she thought had found the perfect home.  
He had a date on Sunday with that young extraordinary woman from Malta - who was perhaps as perfect a match for him as her painting was for his house.


	6. Coconut & Pistachio

_**\- Sunday, April/12 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Emma's penthouse -** _

**Emma's POV**

Nervously, I stood in front of the high mirror in the hallway of my penthouse, running my hands through my hair again, fixing it once more.  
Maybe I should tie it into a braid after all.  
I couldn't decide.  
I had already decided on an outfit - a light blue shirt with white stripes, a navy-blue circle skirt, red high heels.  
The light blue shirt was tucked into the circle skirt, the first two buttons open, revealing my cleavage and a beautiful golden necklace; the sleeves were rolled up to my elbows, revealing my wrists with a matching watch and golden bracelet.  
The circle skirt ended just over my knees.  
Nervously, I stood in front of my tall mirror - I even wore perfume.

I took the red lipstick from the dresser next to the mirror, adding another highlight to my outfit; I had put on subtle but matching make-up.

Again, I let my hand run through my hair, which fell loosely onto my shoulders.

In a few minutes, Martin would 'pick me up' - in our case, video call me - for our date.  
He wouldn't be able to see the red high heels, he wouldn't be able to smell the perfume either and yet I had made all the effort, after all, it was a date nonetheless; albeit an extraordinary one.

With a tingling stomach, I walked into the big kitchen area.  
Taking an apron from the hook, which I put on. I had a knack for getting dirty in the kitchen and I didn't want to show up to the date with an ice cream stain on my shirt.  
With a tingling stomach, I grabbed a small bowl from the cupboard, an ice cream spoon from the cutlery tray, ice cream from the freezer, fruit from the fridge, and toppings from the chemist's cabinet.

My heart was beating very fast against my ribcage.  
It wasn't the upcoming date that made my stomach tingle and my heart skipping a beat every few seconds, it was the man who had invited me to this date.  
I had met him in a very extraordinary way, and I had to say I was very grateful to Laura for this extraordinary attempt to set up her brother.

When I had met Laura and Lamar, I hadn't known that Martin was Laura's brother - and in the end it wouldn't have changed anything about getting to know Laura and Lamar.  
Of course, I had seen Martin on the telly and in the cinema, even on stage; even the jazz records he had made with his friend Eddie Piller were not only in my house but also in the record store; I really liked seeing him, whether it was in the cinema, on television or on stage, and as much as he had raved about my talent for painting, I could rave about his talent for acting - but I did not belong to the closest circle of his fans and didn’t have every conceivable photo of him on my smartphone; and until we got to know each other, I had also known very little about his private life and his preferences and passions.  
For me, he was a man who had had the great fortune to turn a passion and a hobby into a profession.

But since that first Skype chat, he was no longer just a man like any other.  
He had quite captivated and fascinated me; he had enchanted me, and he had stolen my heart bit by bit - something I had not expected when accepting the video call.  
I enjoyed our Skype meetings; I enjoyed chatting with him, being entertained by him; I loved that he made me laugh and I loved stealing a laugh from him as well; I enjoyed hearing and seeing him; I enjoyed bantering and flirting with him; I enjoyed the shared passions, the commonalities; I enjoyed all the ways in which we were not alike, in which we differed.  
He was a very interesting man, very multi-faceted; with a personality that I liked very much, that attracted me a lot.

There was only one drawback - it was not that extraordinary year, or the fact that he lived in England and I in Malta; it was rather his age.  
And I guess I had to say that it didn't bother me at all that he was 48; I was more worried that I was too young for him, only being 30 years of age.  
I didn't have a problem with his age; the grey hair didn't bother me either, on the contrary, I liked it very much, as well as every single wrinkle I could see through the screen; there was just the worry that he was looking for a woman who was his age.

Maybe I should try not to fall too hard for him - but I had the impression that this thought was rushing through my head far too late.

I prepared a sundae, put it in the freezer, made myself a coffee and prepared a glass of water.

I took the water out onto the huge balcony and put it on the table next to the laptop.  
The sun was shining splendidly, the sea glittered in front of my eyes.  
It was a pity that Martin would enjoy his ice cream sundae in London and not here on my balcony.  
I had to rethink - for Martin, I would be sitting in his garden and he on my balcony.

I was really looking forward to the date with Martin - and the idea of 'going out' for an ice cream today also appealed to me because I really liked eating ice cream.  
I was very much looking forward to this date with Martin - it was an unusual way to enjoy a date, and a first time for me and certainly for him too, and yet I was looking forward to it more than to the last date I had here in Malta.

I smiled and took the cup of coffee out onto the balcony as well.  
The way he had asked, the kind of words he had used had been lovely - he had wanted to take me out, wanted to pick me up; had spoken as if we were both in the same place.

It was 2:59pm.

**\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_\- England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -_ **

** Martin's POV  **

Once again I stood in front of my mirror in the dressing room - I had already changed several times.  
At no previous Skype meeting had I been as concerned about my clothes as I was today - but today it wasn't just a simple meeting, today it was a date.  
My heart was beating hard against my ribcage, skipped a beat every two seconds.  
This morning I had taken Gracie and Joe back to Potter's bar - and since coming back I had been feverishly thinking about what to wear.  
Finally, about an hour ago, I had gone upstairs to the dressing room to get dressed - and here I was, still without a decision.

I looked at myself in the mirror, stroked across the navy-blue collarless shirt, rolled up the sleeves a little.  
I examined myself, glanced at the beige trousers.  
No.

I sighed. I needed something else.

It had been some time since my last date – with Jeanne I had had my last date, also a woman who had been much younger, but still several years older than Emma.  
I was excited and nervous.  
Emma really was a stunning woman - not only was she breathtakingly beautiful, but her personality and nature literally took my breath away too.  
It just fit - I could feel that we were absolutely on the same page, that we balanced and complemented each other; she could give me what I needed, what I wanted, what I wanted in a relationship; I could feel how good she was for me.  
It was wonderful to see and hear her, to chat and laugh with her, to discuss and banter with her, to tease her and let her tease me. I liked the many things we had in common, but I also liked the fact that we had different interests and views, that despite all our similarities, our personalities were quite different.  
She really was gorgeous and fabulous, like the perfect dream - there was only one problem for me, apart from the fact that I thought it was a great pity that travelling was very difficult at the moment due to this terrible virus and that Malta therefore seemed to be at the other end of the universe.

The problem was her age, or rather my own age.  
It wasn't her age that bothered me; I didn't have the feeling that she was 18 years younger than me- of course you could see it very clearly on the outside; but for me the age difference was not noticeable during our Skype meetings, it had been quite different with Jeanne.  
It didn't bother me in general that I myself was 48 years old by now; I didn't have a problem with my age, I wasn't in a mid-life crisis looking for a young woman who would allow me to feel young again; if I could choose, I wouldn't even wish to be 20 or 30 or 40 again.  
I was more worried that she thought I was too old; I was worried that she would rather have a partner who was her age.

Of course, she had agreed to this date today, but a date was no guarantee that we would become a couple.

I looked at myself in the mirror again - an ice cream sundae date.  
A light blue shirt; I had left the first button open.  
A pair of navy-blue shorts.  
Light coloured sneakers.  
I felt comfortable.

Before I would change my mind again, I left the dressing room.

I didn't have to worry about my hair because it had been very short since Friday - and Emma had seen me with the new, let's call it lockdown hairstyle, both during the Graham Norton Show and while skyping.  
I had received compliments from her - not only for the currently very short-shaved hair, but also for the hairstyle I had before.

Luckily, I didn't have to worry about styling my hair - I knew myself well enough to know that styling my hair was often not a short affair.

I went down to the kitchen, stroking my well-manicured beard that had also adorned my cheeks since the lockdown began - I just kept trimming it.  
And I had already been complimented for the beard by Emma too - a very nice feeling to be complimented on my appearance by a woman like Emma and to be called attractive and handsome.

In the kitchen, I grabbed an apron and wrapped it around me for good measure - I had a knack for spilling, and I didn't want to have to change again; I would probably not only put on a new shirt, but also new trousers and different shoes, and certainly change the watch on my wrist again.

In the kitchen, I prepared my ice cream sundae.

My stomach was tingling, my heart was beating faster, still skipping a beat every two seconds - I was really looking forward to the date, as unusual as it was; I had never had a date via Skype before, it was a first time.  
I was excited and nervous but didn't feel my stomach tingle anymore because of the excitement, didn't feel my heart skip its beats because of the nervousness.  
Emma was the reason.

My sister had done a great job presenting me Emma her souvenir - and now here I was, trying to make my heart understand that it better doesn’t fall hopelessly in love with Emma; trying to make my heart understand because of worries that were possibly unfounded; maybe I wasn't too old for her after all.  
One thing was certain, my heart was telling me in no uncertain terms that it was already too late for my instruction, far too late. It was telling me that it no longer belonged to me, but that it had been stolen by Emma.

For better or worse, I had to agree with my heart, because my stomach and my head confirmed my heart's statement without a doubt – I had fallen head over heels in love with the woman from Malta.

In the last few days, it had become even harder not to think about Emma, because now I knew that it was her who had painted the painting in my living room that I saw several times every day.  
Even though the lockdown made it seem as if Malta was on the other side of the universe, in a way I now had Emma with me not only due to modern technology but also in the form of that painting.

An artist; an extraordinary exceptional artist - at the age of 30 she had already achieved a lot and made quite a name for herself; quite independent; she was having both feet on the ground.

Her humble manner made me smile - she was indeed absolutely down-to-earth.  
I liked that she didn't crave fame and glory, that she painted because she loved it and not because she wanted to boast in public, not because she cared about making money - she painted because she loved it, because it was her passion.  
And I had to say, you could clearly see that her works were created out of love and passion for painting and art, not out of lust for fame, glory and money.  
It was modesty, a beautiful kind of modesty - a beautiful way of saying that she wanted to keep her secrets, just as I wanted to keep my secrets, just as I didn't want to share everything with the public.

I took my coffee and water out into the garden, put the two drinks down on the table, next to my laptop, which was ready for the date with Emma.  
Hopefully one day there would be a date that was just as extraordinary yet close without a barrier between us.

I fetched the ice cream sundae from the kitchen, had stored it in the freezer.

It was 2:59pm when I sat down.  
It was 3 o’clock when I picked her up for our date.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma beamed and waved, seeing Martin waving and beaming too - they had dressed up properly, and even their clothes subconsciously matched to each other.

"The waiters were really quick today," Martin winked. "Your coconut sundae looks very good... ", he assumed because he could see large pieces of coconut stuck in the white-coloured ice cream. "And you look very good too." he flirted charmingly.

Emma beamed at him, tilting her head, eyeing him and his sundae.

"That’s true, we didn't have to wait long for our order today," she winked at him as well. "Your pistachio sundae looks delicious too.", she smiled - the colour of the ice cream scoops made her rule out all other flavours of ice cream, even if she couldn't see very much of the pistachio-green ice cream scoops due to the delicious topping of sprinkles, fruits and chocolate sauce. "Thank you, Martin!" she beamed with a flattered smile. "I can only return that compliment. And thank you for inviting me - even the weather is lovely today."

Martin beamed at her, eyeing her, letting his eyes dart over her appearance with a tingling belly.  
He didn't know if she wore perfume like he did, but he imagined it, imagined not only seeing and hearing this beautiful woman, but also smelling her with his nose.

"A perfect day for a date at the ice cream parlour," he smiled. "Everything fits - the weather, the surroundings, the ambiance and the woman.", he flirted with his heart beating strongly.  
"Yes, a perfect day for a lovely date," she breathed. "You've picked a great ice cream parlour. The sea behind me, a lovely garden in front of me as well as a very handsome man." she flirted.  
Martin bit his lower lip, smiling charmingly and flirtatiously.  
"Yes, the ice cream parlour is great. Behind me a lovely blooming garden while my eyes can enjoy not only the beautiful sea but also a very beautiful woman."

Emma smiled flattered, looking at him with brown bright eyes that clearly showed that she had enjoyed his compliment.

They each took their spoon.  
"Enjoy it," Martin smiled.  
"You too," Emma breathed.  
The spoons disappeared in the ice cream.

Emma put the spoon in her mouth, licking the coconut ice cream off the spoon.  
Martin put the spoon in his mouth, licked the pistachio ice cream off the spoon.

"I'd love to let you taste my ice cream, but in these extraordinary times, I think we should go without it for now," Emma flirted.  
Martin's lips showed a wide smile - he liked that he wasn't the only one imagining sitting with her in an ice cream parlour at the beach for real. Those extraordinary times weren't the reason why he couldn't try her ice cream, why she wouldn't be able to try his ice cream; it was the current distance between them and the fact that they were skyping.  
"When these extraordinary times are a little less extraordinary, I'll invite you to another ice cream sundae date, and then I'll let you try some of mine, too," Martin winked gently.

They smiled at each other, their spoons disappearing into their mouths, their tongues licking the ice cream off them with relish.

The sun shone down on both of them - both the sky over Malta and the sky over London were blue and cloudless.

Martin glanced at Emma, feeling his heart still beating excitedly - he liked her outfit, liked the two open buttons that showed her décolletage and cleavage and yet still left enough room for his own imagination.

"Do you like coconut best?" he asked.  
"I like it very much, yes. But I don't really have a favourite flavour. I like ice cream in general - and a lot of it, too," she grinned. "I'm actually already a scoop of ice cream myself."  
Martin laughed, shaking his head in amusement.  
"Maybe ice cream rushes through your bloodstream, but you're definitely not a scoop of ice cream on the outside." he flirted with a charmingly hidden compliment.  
Emma smirked.  
"What's your favourite?"  
"Pistachio is actually my favourite. I don't have ice cream running through my bloodstream though - I like to eat ice cream once in a while, but I can walk past an ice cream parlour without weakening."  
"And what makes you weak?" she breathed in a flirtatious voice, then went back to licking ice cream off her spoon - the taste of coconut spreading across her tongue.  
"Are we still talking about food?" he asked in a flirty, charming, almost murmuring voice.

It wasn't the cold ice cream that gave Emma goosebumps all of a sudden in the warm Maltese sun, it was Martin's voice - that murmuring, flirtatious and charming voice.  
It was his voice and his chosen ambiguous words.

"At the moment... " she murmured softly. "... at the moment we're still talking about food."

Martin smiled, couldn't help but see that she had been unable to suppress the pleasant shiver after his question - a pleasant shiver that he too experiences whenever something gave him goosebumps, such as when you fondle his neck, when you kiss and nibble at his neck and ear, when you run your hand tenderly through his hair, when you caress and fondle his palms with your fingernails.  
Apparently his voice and his question had given Emma goosebumps.  
He smiled, liking what he had triggered in her.

"Cake; I soften up on cake; I give in to that delicious temptation - if we stick to the sweet things." he murmured in that flirty and charming voice - it didn't miss its purpose.

His eyes could see her trying to suppress a pleasant shiver, but she failed.  
He was sure she had understood the hidden ambiguous words.  
Are we still talking about food - a little swing towards physical and sexual closeness and preferences; a little hidden hint to make her think if maybe it was her that made him weak and soften up; if it was her who made him give in to her temptation.  
Sticking with the sweet things – he had meant her; her appearance, her manner; he had made her a hidden compliment because he thought that she really was very sweet.  
And he could tell by looking at her that the ambiguous words hadn’t missed their purpose; making her think and speculate, making her shiver and blush.  
Gosh – she was just too cute and sweet.

It was a delight to flirt with her.

"I like ice cream especially with sprinkles, with different toppings, if it's not completely 'naked'." She now smiled with a charming smile and flirtatious voice - her fingers brushing briefly along her cheek.

Martin swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck - she also knew how to hide sweet compliments, how to flirt with gestures and pitches.  
It was a simple statement and he also believed that she liked ice cream with toppings - but the way she had said it, the flirtatious pitch, the caressing of her cheek, made him feel that she had taken the ice cream as a metaphor, that she had wanted to say: 'I like it when men wear beards'.  
Right now, he was sitting in front of her with a beard - with the beard for which he had already received a very open compliment from her.  
He swallowed again, feeling goosebumps all over his body.

"I prefer to enjoy cake in peace, quite comfortably," his charming voice flirted; after he had licked pistachio ice cream from his spoon with relish. And once again ice cream found its way onto his spoon, slowly and savouringly his lips were wrapped around the spoon. "Slowly, bit by bit, with relish, savouring it."

Her sparkling brown eyes, the licking of her lips, the renewed pleasurable shiver said more than thousand words, told him quite clearly that she had understood what he had wanted to say - that he had been telling the truth, but that it had also been a metaphor for physical closeness; a metaphor that again allowed speculations.  
Was it the way he loved to kiss, the way he loved to seduce, the way he loved to love and have sex?

They looked at each other, both licking their lips, beaming at each other from flirting eyes.  
They both felt a racing heart, a tingling belly, soft knees.  
They both felt goose bumps all over their bodies.  
They looked at each other, smiling more and more.

There was a romantic sizzle between them.

Confidently they smiled at each other, but Martin ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck - shyly.  
Confidently they smiled at each other, but Emma stroked the hair on the right side behind her ear and briefly played with her earlobe - shyly.

It crackled romantically between them and yet they worried independently from each other that their own age was a problem for the other.

It crackled romantically between them.  
It crackled romantically between them on their date.  
It crackled romantically between them while the sun was shining.  
It crackled romantically between them while they enjoyed coconut and pistachio ice cream.


	7. Breakfast Club

_**\- Thursday, April/16 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Q1 Apartments, Emma's penthouse -** _

The sun shone softly and mildly in the almost cloudless sky - 24 degrees, a pleasant warmth. The sea rushed in the spring breeze, glistening in the sun.

Emma stood on her balcony, leaning against the glass balustrade she was gazing at the vast sea - her penthouse was, of course, at the very top of the building, on the 13th floor.  
The sea glittered and shimmered, rushed, small waves were viewable - boats and smaller ships sailed across the blue sea.  
Emma took a deep breath, enjoyed the view, enjoyed the mild spring air, enjoyed the warm sun.

The watch on her wrist showed the morning time.  
In ten minutes, it would be ten o'clock - at ten o'clock she had a breakfast date with Martin.  
It was their second date.  
Although they had been in contact via Skype for the last few days, the evening meetings had not been a date, the breakfast in a few minutes would be one.  
Martin had invited her again, had wanted to take her out for a lovely breakfast - and she would have been a fool not to accept the invitation.  
The watch on her wrist showed that she would have to wait another nine minutes for the breakfast date.

She had already liked the first date very much.

She smiled, brushed loose strands behind her ear that were not in her braid.  
She really liked skyping with him, spending time with him - especially regularly.  
She looked forward to every meeting, really looked forward to sharing wine and conversations, really enjoyed getting to know him, getting to know him more and more intensely. 

The watch told her that she would have to wait another eight minutes.

The smile grew bigger.  
She had once again dressed up for him and for their date, as if he would actually pick her up at the door, taking her out for breakfast.  
There was a natural make-up; she wore perfume, had put on a casual yet elegant outfit, even wore shoes and jewellery.

Her wristwatch told her that there were still seven minutes to wait.

Actually, it was also quite sad that she had to imagine enjoying this date in a breakfast café with Martin, but she also liked that they didn't let the distance and the current situation spoil their desire for a date.  
She liked his invitations, thought it was kind of sweet that he defied the distance and the current situation and still took her out on a date - albeit in a very unusual and special way.

Six minutes to go.

Gosh – she would love to hear the doorbell and Martin’s voice over the intercom, telling her that he was here to pick her up for their date.  
Her heart suddenly beat violently against her ribcage.  
Her stomach tingled pleasantly.  
Even her knees softened a little.  
Oh, she liked that voice, to put it accurately, she loved that voice - she could listen to it forever.  
It made her shiver pleasantly.  
She loved his voice - when he spoke, when he flirted, when he bantered and joked around with her, when he was cheeky, when he was sarcastic, when he made fun of her and teased her, when he told her a dirty joke or a funny anecdote, when he talked about his children, when he was just charming and courteous, when he laughed heartily, when he grumbled and got angry about something, when he was swearing, when he was talking passionately and enthusiastically about something. 

Only five minutes to go. 

She had enjoyed watching him on television, in the cinema and also on stage; she liked the way he breathed life into his characters - but she had never suspected that she would fall in love with him.  
She had always thought that he was an attractive man, but that did not mean that one fell in love with that person or that one was in love with this person already - there were some people in the world whom she found attractive.  
Never would she have suspected that they would be just a perfect fit, on the same page, just a match - that they would form such a deep and magical connection and chemistry.  
It was like an invisible bond - there was a deep and natural connection and chemistry.

Four more minutes.

She beamed at the sea, really looking forward to the date with the man from England who made her heart skip a beat nearly every second.  
She really couldn’t care less that he would turn 49 in a few months - she liked his life experience, his maturity, his intellect; that despite his age, he had not yet lost the child in him.  
She had to say she liked it very much that he was much older, because the relationships with men her age had never worked out. She had always missed that intellect, that maturity, that life experience; she had always missed that special child in a man: goofy, bantering, cheeky and childish, without exaggerating, without inappropriateness, without stupid sayings.  
Martin combined it - he had life experience, there was maturity, there was intellect, he had this special child in him; he could be silly and goofy, he could joke around and be cheeky, he could be childish, he was getting up to nonsense,… but just in a very charming way; without wanting too much, without exaggerating; without going beyond this point that took all the fun away. 

The bell rang – unfortunately, it wasn’t her doorbell; yet the ringing made her beam.

Abruptly she turned around, hurried to the table, sat down in the sun, accepted Martin's video call, who was three minutes too early.

She beamed at him – her heart was racing wildly while she looked at his handsome appearance.  
"There you are already!" she beamed at him.  
"I like being a few minutes early," he beamed softly. "Ready for our breakfast date?" he asked charmingly.  
"Yes! Where are you taking me?" she asked with a soft smile.  
"A new café with a breakfast buffet. You have a very lovely view over the sea. There's a great outdoor area; there are sunny spots and shady spots. You're welcome to sit in the sun if you like," he winked.  
Emma beamed at him, nodding.

Martin winked at her again, turned the camera briefly, showed her what was happening outside - it was raining.  
Martin was in his kitchen, sitting at his dining table - it was him who was sitting in the shadow, enjoying the great view over the wide sea, while Emma was enjoying the sun.

The camera pointed at him again, catching his smile, catching his gentle and pleased look, and the bearded face.  
"Did you sleep well?" he asked.  
"I did,... and you?" she asked him with a look that seemed equally gentle and pleased.  
"Me too - and when I woke up and immediately thought about the date that was ahead, I was very happy to get up," he flirted in a charming voice.  
"I was really looking forward to our date, too," her eyes beamed at Martin, who was practically sitting opposite her.  
The camera caught her blissful smile.

"What do you say, shall we go and see what the breakfast buffet has to offer?" the nasal voice smiled.  
"An excellent idea.", Emma nodded - the smile adorable and warm.

Eyes scrutinising each other in amusement; together they stood up. 

Without another word, they left their seats, headed for the breakfast buffet - the fridge.

In London, Martin walked to his fridge, elated and in high spirits - he had already partly prepared his breakfast.  
Feeling euphoric and energetic, but also calm and relaxed, he eagerly wished Emma would sit at his kitchen table.  
She was very close to him via Skype, she sat opposite him via Skype, and as grateful as he was for this technology, as much as he liked their little ‘play’, it was just not the same as actually sitting opposite the other person.  
He really liked the way they arranged their dates, that they pretended to be much closer to each other, to actually be with each other, to be together in person; but he would much rather like it when they didn't have to pretend all of this.  
He longed for that day, that one day when this would actually become a reality - when they would finally meet each other in person.  
It was an overwhelming thought that triggered an overwhelming feeling.  
In London, Martin filled a tray.

Sandwiches, fruit, porridge, a glass of orange juice, a glass of water and a cup of black tea with milk. 

In Sliema, Emma plundered her fridge with a blissful feeling.  
Just seeing him triggered an intense feeling of joy, pure happiness and absolute contentment within her.  
These feelings overwhelmed her, Martin overwhelmed her, almost overchallenged her.  
It was a very extraordinary bond that fitted them together like two perfectly matching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.  
She had not expected this extraordinary bond, but she felt comfortable and at home within this extraordinary bond, even though she was equally overchallenged and overwhelmed by it.  
In Sliema, Emma filled a tray to take out onto the balcony.

Two croissants, jam, muesli, fruit and yoghurt, a glass of orange juice and a cup of black tea with some milk.

When Emma finally put the tray down on the wooden table and sat down again comfortably on the accompanying chair, she was already smiled at by Martin - he was sitting comfortably on his chair, had already been waiting for her. 

His smile grew warmer and bigger as she gave him a candid smile.

"Is there actually a typical Maltese breakfast?" inquired Martin with genuine interest.  
"Not really," she shook her head with a smile. "We like to eat bread and we also like English breakfast, and there are also stuffed puff pastries that many like to eat for breakfast, but there is actually no typical Maltese breakfast. It's a colourful variety," she smiled.  
"And what is your favourite breakfast?"  
"I can't decide,… just like the rest of the population," she winked with a smirk. "I must confess, though, that I don't always eat as healthy as I do today - sometimes I like to just enjoy pastries for breakfast, or toast and Nutella."  
"I'm not a fan of Nutella," he smiled. "But I don't always have a healthy breakfast like I have today either. Sometimes it's a bowl full of unnecessarily sugared cereal, like Froot Loops or Choco Crispies or the ones filled with nougat - which I really only have in the kitchen cupboard because of Joe and Gracie."

The grin and smirk on Emma's face became a hearty and boisterous laugh.  
She winked at him, gesturing towards his breakfast.

"Then enjoy your healthy breakfast now, handsome Choco Crispy."  
Martin's lips pulled into a wide grin, he too was pointing at her breakfast. He winked, letting the grin become a gentle smile again.  
"Enjoy your breakfast too," the nasal voice breathed.  
They gave each other a smile, then they both sipped their orange juice.

Comfortably they sat in their chairs, enjoying their breakfast, enjoying their time together - enjoying seeing and hearing each other.  
It harmonised like every other day before.  
And they both savoured their date with each other elated and blissful. 

Martin put the teacup back on the table, tilted his head, liked the cosy breakfast date.

"How did you come up with your artist name, anyway?", Martin directed the topic from jazz to Emma's art.  
Emma tilted her head, feeling the change of the topic very appropriate, as they had finished talking about jazz a few moments ago. She brushed the loose strands behind her ear, smiled at him, put the spoon in her yoghurt.  
"I came up with it because of my grandma. She bought me my first really good paintbox and gave it to me. I always loved to paint and draw, but I didn't have an expensive and fully equipped paintbox at home. When she gave me one of those paintboxes we were on holiday. I was 10 at the time - and we were on holiday in England, in Darlington; that's where she bought me the paintbox," she smiled. "That's why I chose Darlington. And my grandma's name is Carlotta."  
"That's why you chose Charlie." smiled Martin. "That's a really lovely story - and the gesture behind that name is very lovely too. I'm sure she's very proud of you."  
Emma brushed her loose strands behind her ear again.  
"Yes... she is."

Martin smiled at her, tilting his head.  
"When we first talked about your art, you told me you didn't need all this fuss about you - is that the only reason you're that modest and humble when it comes to your art?"  
"I just love to paint, you know? The hype wouldn't be too much for me in general; I just don't care about gaining fame and tribute for my art. I paint because it's my passion. Of course, it's nice to be famous and to make a lot of money out of it - but it's just not the reasons why I paint. I think you would also be very modest and humble, I’m sure you would rather hide behind your name if it were possible in your industry. When I compliment you on your art, when I praise you to the skies as an actor and rave about your talent, you're also very modest and humble and shy about it," she winked. "I'm just happy that I can touch certain people’s hearts with my art, that's enough for me, that's all I need."  
Martin smiled, running his hand through his hair.  
"That's exactly what I kind of thought - your words now confirm that I had the right feeling. I like the way you think and feel about it. I like that kind of humility - and I think it's very clear that you paint and photograph out of love and passion, because you want to give something to people, because you want to touch their hearts, not because you want to enrich yourself in an unpleasant way. And you're right, if I didn't have to stand in front of the audience while acting, I would probably hide behind my name. I love my job, but I don't really like being the centre of attention - the cheeky and self-conscious comments are often just a way to bear being constantly the centre of attention, and to cover my own insecurities," he smiled gently. "There are enough people who just want to get rich and famous, and I've met enough of them - it's really very lovely that you're not one of them."  
"We are very similar in that respect. Your projects and the way you approach them and the way you breathe life into your characters also shows very clearly that you do it out of love and passion for the script and the project itself," she smiled. "It pleases me too that you're not one of those people who only crave money and recognition and lose sight of what's really important."

Martin smiled flattered, sipped his tea again.

"We are both very modest and compliments make us shy, but... your art is still breathtaking. I wouldn't have expected such a young woman to be that outstanding artist. It's crazy what you've accomplished so far and that you have both your feet on the ground – being just 30 years old. It is and will always be an exceptional and outstanding talent - and I'm glad you've used it well, otherwise I wouldn't have such a great painting in my living room," he winked. "And don't tell me to stop with those compliments again, because I won't," he winked charmingly this time.  
"Good,... then I can rave about your acting talent again," she winked. She took a deep breath, already starting to gush.  
"Let's not do that." he smiled, interrupting her - even though he absolutely appreciated her compliments, but he too was, as he had just said, quite modest and humble. And he got shy in a very special and intense way when she raved that much about his acting skills and talent.  
"Oh, so I'm not allowed to interrupt you?" grinned Emma broadly.  
"Exactly,... I'm... older, I'm allowed to interrupt you," he grinned broadly.  
"What kind of lousy argument is that?" laughed Emma.  
"One that brooks no dissent, after all, I'm... "  
"Older." laughed Emma.  
"Now the young lady is saucily and impudently interrupting me as well!" he grinned broadly, his voice flirtatious. "Weren’t you taught any manners?"

Emma laughed heartily, infecting Martin as well, who now had to laugh at his own nonsense. 

"You really are a... buffu."  
Martin grinned at her in amusement.  
"Has the young pretty lady now also insulted me in Maltese during our date?" he grinned in a flirtatious and charming voice.  
Emma shook her head in amusement.  
"She didn't - she called you a joker or a clown."  
Martin winked with a smirk.  
"I'll let that pass. Is there another name for me?" he smirked.  
Emma nodded.  
"Raġel sabiħ," the voice flirted warmly and gently.  
"And what did you call me now? Cheeky?" he smirked with a wink.  
Emma shook her head with a smile.  
"Handsome man." she flirted.

Martin's smirk turned into a warm smile, his eyes shining blue and flattered.

"I hope the pretty woman feels like enjoying this breakfast date with the handsome man for a little while longer," he breathed flirtatiously.  
"I'd like to savour every minute of it," she murmured charmingly.


	8. Playing Cupid

_**\- Sunday, April/19 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Songs by Madness sounded in the house via the sound system.  
The last tones of 'Our House' sounded.  
The first tones of 'Baggy Trousers' sounded.

Martin was in the kitchen, standing next to the open fridge; his eyes darted over the contents again, his hand gave the fridge door a push.  
He turned to the kitchen island, picked up the pen that lay beside his shopping list.  
Cream cheese - he wrote on the list.  
Tomorrow he would pick up Joe and Gracie again, they probably would have some special requests as well.  
He would wait until tomorrow to go shopping - he didn't feel like going to the crowded supermarket again and completely unnecessarily, just because he hadn’t waited for his kids to make their last food wishes for the upcoming two weeks; he would wait until tomorrow, asking his children about their current culinary cravings. Especially Gracie's today's cravings might not be cravings by tomorrow.

Just a few minutes ago, he had been sitting at his laptop, once again working online and from home.  
There was nothing more on the schedule for today, at least no work.  
Later he would just skype with Emma - his highlight of the day.

His ears picked up the ringing of his smartphone in the kitchen.  
His head turned in different directions, his eyes were searching for the ringing phone.  
His feet carried him searchingly through the kitchen. 

He could hear the song of his smartphone clearly, sighed as he hadn’t found it yet.  
He lifted papers from the kitchen island, but the smartphone was not underneath them either.

"You can’t be fucking serious..." he grumbled as his eyes were searching the kitchen island and counter tops again. "Where the fuck is that bloody thing... "

He took several steps forward, took several steps towards an open book - Joe had wanted a cake for tomorrow, a very specific carrot cake, but he hadn't started baking yet. He lifted the cooking and baking book that had once belonged to his mother - and finally, he found the ringing smartphone.

Laura.

Martin answered the call.  
"Sorry, I couldn't find the phone," he greeted her – his voice not grumbling or swearing any longer; his voice was just soft and tender, happy because of her call.  
"I would have let it keep ringing penetratingly until you would have answered it," her voice said amused. "Hello sweetie pie!"  
"I suspected it would be you or Simon, no one else would have waited this long for me to take the call." Martin smirked - leaned against the kitchen island. "Hey.", he greeted her in a very warm voice. "Everything good with you guys?" he asked with a very caring voice.  
"Mr. Pegg and I just don't take no for an answer," she grinned. "We're fine. You too, I hope."  
Martin shook his head in amusement; a smile spread across his face.  
"Everything's fine with me, too. Did you just want to chat, or is there something I can do to help you or you guys?"  
"I just wanted to chat with my very beloved twin brother. I miss him because we usually see each other more often, even when he's constantly travelling all over the world. Did you notice that even during your time in New Zealand, we saw each other more often than we have so far this year?"  
"I'm painfully aware of that too, unfortunately. Perhaps things will calm down a bit over the summer and we can continue our family visits with a good conscience. You know I would love to visit all of you, especially because I am in London and have a fucking lot of time; and I know that you would love to visit me, that you would love to visit each other - but everyone of us is reasonable enough to do without these visits at the moment,... even if it is very difficult for all of us. You can't imagine how much I'd love to visit you; you and Lamar, how much I'd love to see my two chestnuts," he breathed, ending by addressing Laura and Lamar's two children by his very own pet name, chosen especially for them by him.  
"You're right. And I'm also hoping that things will at least calm down a bit during the summer - right now the numbers are just too high. I don't want to put any of you in danger... we all don’t want to do that. We're all sensible enough to abide by the rules and restrictions, but who can say if you won't catch this virus anyway, or if you already have it, just not showing any symptoms?" she said. "Your two chestnuts miss you very much too, but I'm sure they let you know they do when you're skyping or talking on the phone," she smiled. "Since I really miss you painfully too, and I'd love to see you and hug and kiss you, I thought we could at least skype."  
"I agree with you completely," the nasal voice said. "Skyping sounds great! When do you want to skype, right now?"  
"I'm sitting on the couch, ready to skype with the best brother in the whole world and universe," her voice beamed.  
"Give me two minutes and I'll be there, too,… you little toady" he smiled and smirked.  
Laura giggled.  
"See you in a minute, darling."  
"See you in a minute."  
Martin put the smartphone down on the kitchen island.

He grabbed a mug, placed it under the coffee machine – a latte macchiato filled the mug.  
He carried the mug into the living room, set it down on the coffee table.  
He picked up his laptop, plopped down on the couch with it.  
And while the laptop prepared itself for skyping, Martin put his legs up on the coffee table.  
He took the laptop he had put down next to him, placed it on his lap, started Skype. 

The video call from Laura was announced immediately - he accepted it.

Laura beamed at him, waved enthusiastically.  
"Hi there!"  
"Hullo, Mrs. Bonnaire." he greeted her with her married surname and a wink.  
Laura smiled, waved again, even sent him a kiss from Kingswell Aberdeen to London.  
"I have to compliment you again - the short hair really suits you, and with the beard you're wearing at the moment, the new hairstyle suits you even better."  
"Thanks Laura.", Martin smiled and rubbed his beard, then stroked his short-shaved grey hair. "You already gave me the compliments last year when I wore it quite short."  
"But it wasn't quite as short back then as it is now," she smiled. "I really like your current look, although I actually always like your look," she smirked. "You're quite a handsome and attractive little fellow, aren't you?" she winked. “You really are the best looking one from the five of us.”  
"Why are you complimenting me that much?" grinned Martin. "You're up to something. Come out with it," he smirked.  
Laura laughed.  
"It's not the first time I've complimented you, dear."  
Martin grinned at her.  
He wanted to say something, but Laura interrupted him – she was beaming and her eyes were sparkling.  
“Gosh, I’d love to give you a very big and tight hug, and a pretty big and firm kiss, too.”  
Martins grin became a smile.  
“I’d love to do that too. I’d really love to hug you tight and to give you a kiss. I miss you, all of you. It’s not making things easier or less missing, but we will catch up on every hug and kiss when we will see each other again.”  
Laura smiled at him, nodding.

The clocks in the house set their hands to 11 o'clock. 

"Oh,…wait a second; I'll just add someone else to our video call - since you're free right now," Laura smiled.  
"Who else do you want to add?" asked Martin, thinking of one of his brothers. 

There was no answer to his question, but on his screen he suddenly saw not only Laura, but also Emma.  
He had known it - Laura had been up to some mischief!

He could see Laura waving again, saw Emma looking a little irritated for a moment - she didn't seem to have been expecting him either.  
He could see Laura saying something, but he no longer heard her, or rather, he no longer heard her whole sentence.

"... is Martin," she pointed at Martin. Again, her voice was lost, but she could be seen talking. "He... my..."  
"Laura I can't really hear you," Emma said.  
"I can't hear you either," said Martin.  
"There's something wrong with my connection," Laura said, was again fully audible - but then her lips moved again without Emma and Martin hearing anything. 

Martin looked to her, saw his sister shrugging her shoulders, saw her making wild gestures, seeming to get upset and sweary - her appearance disappeared briefly, then reappeared, then suddenly she was gone from the group video chat altogether.

Emma and Martin were left.

They looked at each other, tilted their heads - eyes darting over each other's appearance.  
Emma sat comfortably on her balcony in a black T-shirt, her hair tied in a braid, a chocolate bar in her hand.  
Martin was lounging on the couch in a grey jumper, a coffee mug in his hand.  
They looked at each other, smirked and grinned.

Peal of laughter.

Martin leaned forward laughing heartily and roaring, put the mug down - the warm liquid had sloshed suspiciously close to the rim of the mug.  
He leaned back, slouched comfortably into the couch again, still laughing very hard with Emma. 

Emma had put the chocolate bar to the side, holding her stomach as she laughed loud and heartily, tears of laughter leaking from her eyes as they leaked from Martin's too. 

They were panting with laughter, finding it hard to calm down. 

Martin shook his head in amusement, clicking on his sister's Skype chat, for she had sent him a message.  
His eyes read the message - it made him laugh again.

Emma grinned widely over to London.  
"I got the strong impression that your sister was playing Cupid again. She had texted me last night and wanted to Skype with me at 11 o'clock today. She didn't mention that you'd be there, though," she grinned broadly.  
Martin grinned broadly, having calmed down again.  
"She was definitely playing Cupid. She just sent me a message - I'll read it out loud." he said with a grin, pausing for a moment. "Since you still haven't unwrapped my souvenir, I had to take it in my hands. I’m sorry I had to force you a little bit to your luck – but since she’s your happiness you really should talk to her before you’re dead and just a ghost. Winking Smiley. Have fun getting to know your perfect match. Winking smiley, heart smiley."

He raised his eyes, smirked at Emma, who smirked too.

"I guess she's a little late then, you've already unwrapped your souvenir on your own," Emma winked flirtatiously. “And you still look very much alive.” She winked with a smirking smile.  
"Yes, I did. I didn't need her for that." he smiled softly. "Good thing she backed off, because I'd much rather enjoy my souvenir all to myself, for I’m still alive and in full swing." he winked flirtatiously.

Emma brushed her loose strands behind her ear, played with her earlobe and earring - her brown eyes glowing and sparkling.

A glow and sparkle stretched across both their faces.

"I'd venture to say she kept turning off her mic, and in the end her camera too, before she just hung up," Martin smiled.  
"We solved that case of fraud very quickly, Watson," she winked with a slight smirk. 

Martin smirked - it was a very pleasant feeling that while Emma knew his films and other projects, and that she also generally liked him and appreciated his acting, she was not a fan who knew everything he had ever said in an interview, that she simply appreciated his work but had known little about him outside of his films, series and theatre work.  
It was pleasant to get to know her and to be able to introduce himself without always running into facts she already knew - he had to openly admit that it had been quite different with Jeanne. Back then he hadn't disliked it, for he was in the public eye for many years now, but now he had to say that he found it much more pleasant to get to know a woman who had known almost nothing about him privately.  
That had changed now, of course, after all they had been skyping with each other every day for almost a month and in that time he had not only got to know her, but he had also introduced himself properly, she had also got to know him.

Again, he heard her voice.

"Now that she has set us up at 11 o'clock, why don't we just move up our Skype meeting and extend it?" she beamed.  
"That sounds fantastic!" nodded Martin enthusiastically. "It's nice to see you a few hours earlier, thanks to her playing Cupid," he gloated.  
"I can only return that," she beamed.

Martin now waved, beaming at her with sparkling warm eyes.  
"Hello Emma!"  
"Hello Martin!"  
Emma waved to him, beaming enthusiastically too.

They looked at each other, smiled, grinned, had to laugh again because of Laura.

"We both seem to have told her nothing about the other," Martin grinned.  
"I didn't tell her anything, but she kept mentioning her siblings, and one of her brothers in particular," Emma smirked. "Well, I have to say, if we hadn't skyped yet, I still wouldn't know you were her brother. I did know you had siblings and also that there was a sister... but I didn't know her name. Actually, I only knew Jamie's name. She is always raving about you, advertising you a bit, but not as obviously as she has now set up this Skype date," Emma smirked.  
"She hasn't told me about that. And I haven't told her I contacted you yet either. She has already interfered abundantly," he smirked. "I hope she hasn't told you any embarrassing stories," he grinned.  
"Not so far," Emma laughed. "But you do it freely when we’re skyping. But Laura has only ever spoken very well of you - not exaggerated, it has always been very authentic." she smiled now. 

Martin smiled, glad that Laura didn't exaggerate.  
He was really very grateful to Laura for this souvenir - but he wanted to take the rest into his own hands, in his own way, at his own pace, for himself, together with Emma; finding out where the journey will lead them, hoping that he could win her heart despite his age.  
Smiling, he looked at the 30-year-old - he loved her experience, her maturity, but also her childish and young nature. It was a delightful mixture that made him absolutely forget that she had 18 years less life experience than him.  
He looked at the 30-year-old radiantly - all her experience, her views and values radiated maturity; but there was also this sparkle in her eyes, this joking and childishness, this youthful side of her personality; she seemed like a woman his age who just hadn't forgotten to be a child once in a while, who hadn’t forgotten to not always take life too seriously.  
Eavesdropping, he looked at Emma, listening to her voice telling him that she was very happy to sit in the sun with him to enjoy the rest of the day.  
His eyes darted over her appearance - he would be a miserable liar if he did not admit that he loved the experience and maturity, but also her flawless and breathtaking beauty, her young appearance.  
But he could also say with a pure heart that he would think of her as a very attractive woman if she were actually his age - it was not only that beautiful body of the 30-year-old that attracted him very much, but above all her personality, her views and values, her lust for life, her maturity and her passions.  
She was just a gobsmacking woman.

"Did you hear me?" asked Emma, smiling.

Martin tilted his head, then nodded.  
"Yes, yes I heard you. You'll be right back with a latte," he smiled.  
"You looked like you were in another world." she smiled. "Would you mind if I ate something? I'm a little hungry."  
"I was right there with you." he winked softly, flirtatiously. "You're welcome to eat something, I don't mind," he smiled. "Don't keep me waiting too long." he breathed charmingly.  
"I'll just take you with me."  
She smiled, stood up, picked up the laptop and winked at him.

She carried him into the penthouse, carried him through the cosy living area to the open kitchen.  
It was a good thing he had said not to keep him waiting too long, because that way she had been able to just take him into the kitchen without having to make the first move herself.  
She didn't want to lose a second with him either, while they would now be skyping together for much longer than they had actually intended.  
She was really very grateful to Laura - and she wasn't even thinking about today's match-making attempt because she was too late for that; she was thinking much more about passing on her Skype contact.  
And above all, she was very grateful that Laura had come into her life at all.  
It was wonderful to get to know this man - the more she got to know him, the more he embodied exactly the man she was looking for.  
That Martin was no longer in his 30s, she could see clearly, but she loved the grey hair, she loved the wrinkles, she loved the maturity she could not only feel in him but also see. It was time to dump the men her age, because so far it hadn't worked with them anyway.  
Martin was turning out more and more to be the man who was her perfect match, and she fervently hoped that he would give a shit about her age, to say the least - she fervently hoped that her age would not be a problem in his sister's Cupid game.  
It was just wonderful to get to know him, to get to know his multi-faceted personality more and more intensely - she loved this mixture of maturity and childish cheekiness, loved this mixture of grumpy dwarf and true caring and attentive gentleman, liked this mixture of philandering and seriousness.  
And she would be a pathetic liar if she didn't also admit that she found Martin not only very attractive but also damn and gobsmacking sexy.  
Until now she had never fallen in love with a man more than 4 years her senior, but now it had happened - now she had fallen head over heels in love with a man 18 years her senior; and this man regularly made her heart skip beats while pounding faster than ever before; he made the butterflies in her tummy dance tirelessly. 

In Kingswell Aberdeen, Laura rubbed her hands in glee after confessing her little set up to her husband.  
The dark-skinned Metropolitan Police officer, Lamar Bonnaire, had unlocked the front door shortly after his wife had finished the Skype call.  
In Kingswell Aberdeen, Lamar smirked at his wife.

"You just couldn't resist playing Cupid, could you?” he asked.  
"He played Cupid with us too," Laura smirked.  
"Laura my darling, he had just been the only one talking to me on my first day at the new school - he just waited with me for you. We were just standing outside the school waiting to be picked up by our parents," Lamar smirked.  
"With that, he still played Cupid - and he gave you your first friendship in your new home away from home. So now we have to give him something lovely back in return."  
"I haven't forgotten that he was my first friend after I emigrated," smiled the French-born, who had emigrated to England with his parents when he had been 16, who had emigrated to Scotland with his wife Laura many years later. “And I’m still very grateful for his friendship, it's one of the things I don’t want to ever miss in my life.”  
Laura beamed at her husband, caressed the dark cheek, breathed a kiss on it.  
"You see! So, we should help him a little to find his happiness as well. And to do that, I just had to play Cupid a little more intensely since he didn’t unwrap the souvenir yet. You know that they’re just perfect for each other."  
Lamar smiled, breathed a kiss on his wife's pale cheek.  
"I know, Laura.” He said softly. “But now you stop playing Cupid."

They smiled at each other - Laura nodded.

Now she had done enough, now she wouldn’t need to play Cupid again; knowing her brother would do the rest well himself – in his way, at his own pace, winning the heart of his perfect match.


	9. The Italian Restaurant

_**\- Tuesday, May/05 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

6:44pm.

Martin stood up straight again, had crouched in front of the oven, had just closed the oven door - he had preheated the oven in the last few minutes, had put his pasta in the oven to keep it warm.  
He ran his hand over his short hair. 

The kitchen was clean, he had tidied it while cooking.  
The plate on which he had arranged tomato mozzarella as well as the salad bowl were in the fridge, as was a small dessert.

He took off his apron, hung it up, stroked across the shirt - a very soft pink, a round collar; it was tucked into black tailored suit trousers.  
His hand grabbed the lighter from the kitchen island, his feet carried him out onto the terrace - he was wearing black flashing suit shoes; he had even polished them before cooking. 

Pleasant, diffused light illuminated the terrace with romantic atmosphere.  
On the wooden table was his laptop, a bottle of red wine and water, a wine glass and a water glass, and a candle; cutlery was also ready, as well as a napkin - he had even laid a nice heavy white tablecloth over the natural wooden table. 

He lit the red candle with the lighter. 

Nervously, his heart pounded against his ribcage.  
He had a date with Emma.  
He had invited her to dinner - to an Italian restaurant.  
Nervously, the butterflies flew in his tummy. 

He took the lighter into the house, put it back on the kitchen island as he walked past it.  
He went to the bathroom on the ground floor, entered it, went to the sink and mirror.  
He had dressed up properly, just wanted to feel the feeling of a real date in a real restaurant - with all the trimmings.  
And in his opinion, that included a suit, matching shoes, also a watch and, above all, perfume. 

He adjusted the dark frame glasses on his nose, took his tie from the towel rack.  
He tied his tie without having to look in the mirror - he tied it with nimble, skilful fingers.  
Before cooking, he had trimmed his beard, which now adorned his cheeks very neatly again.  
He grabbed the black jacket, put it on, even fastened one of the buttons.  
His hand pulled a pocket square from the towel rack; red and black it was, setting just the right accent to the shirt, glasses and suit. 

Perfume hit his neck and wrists.

It was 6:54pm - he had an appointment with Emma at 8pm Maltese time.  
Just six more minutes.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_**\- Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Q1 Apartments, Emma's penthouse -**_

It was 7:54 pm.

Emma breathed in the fresh air - deep into her lungs.  
Her heart was beating fast and excited.  
Her stomach tingled with joy.  
Martin had asked her out again.

The last date with him had been a little over a fortnight ago, but they had still skyped every day for the last two weeks - often late at night when Joe and Gracie had already gone to bed.  
They had skyped casually, with a small glass of wine, lounging somewhere.  
Sometimes it had been two hours, sometimes only one hour, sometimes almost the whole night. 

Her heart pounded far too fast.  
For tonight he had invited her to dinner; he had said he wanted to take her out to an exquisite Italian restaurant.  
A smile appeared on her face as she smoothed the tablecloth on the balcony table again.  
She was really looking forward to the date.  
And since he wanted to take her out to an Italian Restaurant, she had of course cooked Italian food tonight.

The Italian fish and vegetables were still in the oven, would need some more time.  
The bruschetta and salad were in the fridge, as was the small dessert.

She had transformed the dining table on the balcony into a small restaurant.  
A red candle was burning, a bottle of red wine and a bottle of water were ready, along with matching glasses; cutlery and napkins were ready, and the laptop was also ready for the date at the Italian restaurant.

Warm May air brushed through her light brown hair, which fell slightly wavy around her face.  
The eyes had been highlighted with dark mascara, but they still looked very natural.  
The freckles on her nose and cheeks were clearly visible.  
The lips were glowing in an elegant red.

She wore a black jumpsuit tied at the neck, which not only flattered her slender figure, but also created a handsome and elegant décolleté and very discreetly flattered her cleavage.  
The black high heels accentuated her slender legs, made her look taller. 

She looked out to the sea, smelling not only the sea air but also the perfume she wore. 

It was 7:58 p.m. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_**\- England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -**_

It was 6:58pm.

Martin had sat down at the table, had started the video call.  
Skype warbled – in his ears it was Emma’s doorbell.  
He had opened his jacket when he sat down.

His video call was answered. 

The blue eyes caught sight of Emma - he had to swallow; he couldn't see the whole outfit, but what he saw looked breathtakingly pretty, elegant and delightful - he could perceive a gentle hint of her breasts due to the deep décolleté, could see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Again, he had to swallow - this outfit and this woman exuded beauty, elegance and a subtle hint of eroticism.  
The blue eyes saw her in the pleasant light, also perceived the flickering light of a candle.  
The blue eyes caught sight of the vast sea in the background - faintly due to the darkness, but still his eyes could catch a hint of it. 

"You look beautiful," breathed the nasal voice, overwhelmed. 

Brown eyes shone to London, scrutinising Martin - she had to swallow too; this man had been born to wear suits. She loved his style of dress, loved his love and passion for fashion, and you could clearly see the love and passion for it. No matter what clothes he was wearing when he appeared in front of her in the laptop, whether it was a slouch outfit from the sofa, whether it was a casual shirt or a polo shirt, whether it was a simple T-shirt, she loved it. And this suit also looked outrageously good on him - he looked damn sexy; with this suit, with the short hair, the neat beard and those frame glasses.  
Brown eyes beamed at Martin; she bit her lower lip.  
Brown eyes caught sight of Martin in the garden, caught sight of pleasant light and the flickering light of a candle. 

"Thank you." she breathed in a smiling and flattered voice. "I can only return the compliment. The suit suits you very well."

Martin beamed flattered all the way to Malta, letting his eyes dart over her appearance; this outfit almost made him sweat; he was getting a little hot.

"Thank you Emma." he smiled softly. "What is 'It's good to see you' in Maltese?"

Emma smiled to London, tilting her head.  
"Huwa sabiħ li tara int."  
"Before I embarrass myself or offend you by mispronouncing the words, I'll stick to English," he winked charmingly. "It's good to see you."  
Emma smirked and giggled.

"It's very good to see you too," she breathed softly. "And Maltese is indeed not an easy language."  
"I have that feeling too. Where’s Maltese coming from?" he asked with interest. "Wait,... let's toast first. Let's toast our date first." he breathed softly. 

He raised his wine glass.  
"To a lovely evening and a lovely date," he said with a warm and calm voice.  
"To a lovely evening and a lovely date," Emma nodded, her voice calm and warm too.  
She had raised her wine glass.

They made a gesture as if they were toasting, then sipped their wine. 

A smile on their lips, a sparkle in their eyes.

"Shall we order the appetiser before I answer your question?" asked Emma.  
"An excellent idea," Martin nodded.  
"I was thinking about ordering bruschetta."  
"And I’ll probably order tomato mozzarella salad."

They smiled at each other, stood up - Martin even fastened the button of his jacket again.

For a few moments they eyed each other, eyed the other as they stood - for now they could see almost the entire outfit of the other.  
Martin felt hot - sexy as hell; he thought.  
Emma felt her stomach tingle - incredibly sexy; she thought.  
For a few moments they moved away from the table, went into the kitchen - they both opened the fridge.  
Martin took the prepared plate of tomato mozzarella salad from the fridge.  
Emma took the prepared bruschetta from the fridge.  
After a few moments, they met again at the table.

Martin opened his jacket as he sat down.

"Bon appetit, Emma.", he smiled at Emma, imagining she was actually sitting opposite him at the same table.  
"To you too, Martin.", Emma smiled, beaming over at him.

There was silence for the first few bites.

"Maltese is a Semitic language, but with Latin letters. Many words have also been taken from English, Italian and French and slightly modified. Like 'thank you - grazzi', from the Italian word 'grazie'," Emma smiled. "Everyone here speaks Malti - and English. There are only a few people who don't speak English; most of them are people over the age of 75." she smiled. "Maltese is the national language, but English is one of the official languages as well."  
Martin looked at her, listening intently, listening with interest. He had known quite a bit about Malta's history before, after all, the island or archipelago had once been a British colony; indeed, the country had only gained its independence in 1964; but he had never heard the language before, even though Emma had already slipped in a few words.  
"What’s the word for ‘hello’?" he asked, tilting his head.  
"Hello." grinned Emma. "I think you can manage that without embarrassing yourself," she winked, amusement in her flirty voice.  
"Holle.", Martin played dumb and the fool. "Was that right?" he grinned cheekily.

Emma laughed and shook her head in amusement.

"Buffu!" she grinned.  
"That means clown or joker.", he winked, remembering the word since she had called him buffu quite often already.  
"Very good." she giggled.

Chattering, they enjoyed their appetiser, sipping wine from time to time too.

"I have something else that's easy for you," she winked. "You're welcome/please - jekk jogħġbok." she grinned cheekily now.  
"You're being cheeky again, young lady!" he smirked. "We'll come back to these words and phrases later, when we've emptied the bottle of wine together," he winked.

Amused, they grinned at each other. 

Emma leaned back comfortably, sipped the wine, glanced at Martin, watched him - a slice of tomato disappeared into his mouth.  
The grin had disappeared, she had a smile on her lips.  
A warm feeling rushed through her body - Martin really was a wonderful and stunning, smashing and gorgeous man.  
She loved his flirting, loved his charming manners, loved that he didn't overdo it, that it was naturally and with the right intensity.  
She felt comfortable in his company, felt respected and equal - and she could clearly feel that he was genuinely interested in her.  
He was British to the core, and she also loved this a lot about him.  
She smiled at him - a slice of mozzarella was disappearing into his mouth. 

"What have you chosen for your main course?" she asked.

Martin licked his lips, put the cutlery aside, had now emptied his plate too.  
He too leaned back, took his wine glass, sipped it briefly, then smiled at Emma and paused for a moment.

"Pasta - with tomatoes, olive oil, olives and garlic. Very classic," he smiled. "And what did you choose?"  
"Grilled sea wolf - with Italian vegetables and garlic," she smiled.  
"Good thing we’ll both eat garlic," he winked flirtatiously. "Otherwise kissing would have been awkward for one of us," he dared to say with his charming flirtatious voice.  
"Fortunately, we don't have to do without the kissing now," Emma answered his charming flirting.

Martin smiled; his hand rubbed over the back of his neck.  
Emma smiled, playing briefly on her earlobe.

Wordlessly they stood up with a smile - Martin closed the button of the jacket again, as one should do.  
Wordlessly they went in to get the main course and the small salads.

The dinner date at the Italian restaurant went as harmoniously as the dates before, as the Skype meetings, as they were used to feel it. 

They chatted.  
There was culinary enjoyment.  
There were laughter.  
There was enjoying some culture.  
There was banter.  
There was enjoying some music - which was played by the Italian restaurant on Martin's side.  
There was flirting. 

It was a perfect evening and date for both of them - which they ended with more wine and a small bowl of tiramisu. 

Martin beamed to Emma - they had emptied the bottle of wine together; to be precise, they had each emptied their own bottle with relish.  
Martin beamed to Emma, propped his elbow on the table, had his cheek nestled in his palm - he felt a bit drunk.

He felt satiated, warm, comfortable, drunk, in love, tired.

They had blown out the candles because in their shared imagination they were no longer in the Italian restaurant; in their shared imagination Martin had just walked her home.

"Thank you for a really lovely and stunning date and for inviting me to dinner," Emma breathed with a snugly smile.  
"You're very welcome - and thank you too, for a really lovely date." he breathed in a nasally warm voice that sounded a little heavier due to the alcohol.

He sat up straight in the chair, hesitating for a moment. 

"Can you imagine what people exchange after bringing home a date, after saying thank you, just before saying goodbye?" he asked.  
"Yes,... I can," she breathed.

They looked at each other via the camera.

Martin tilted his head to the right.  
Emma also tilted her head to the right.

They smiled at each other, blew a kiss in the air as if they had tenderly kissed each other's cheek. 

Goosebumps spread over both their bodies, even though their lips had not touched the skin.  
Hearts fluttered - yet Emma had not felt Martin's dainty, slightly rough but soft lips.  
Butterflies danced wildly - yet Martin had not felt Emma's dainty and delicate, full and soft lips.

They had 'exchanged' a kiss for the first time.

"Good night, Emma."  
"Good night, Martin,... have a safe walk back home."

They smiled at each other - and then the screen went black, then the call ended, as if Martin had turned around to walk back home.


	10. Sightseeing

_**\- Wednesday, May/27 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point -** _

"This is Pjazza Tigné." said Emma as she walked across a large square with her smartphone in her hand.

Today she saw Martin lounging on the couch, but Martin could not see her, for Martin saw everything Emma captured with the smartphone camera.  
She saw Martin lounging on the couch, but the blue eyes glowed and sparkled with interest and attention, euphoria and delight.  
Today she was taking him out on a date - a little sightseeing date, a very special sightseeing tour. 

She walked across a square that was almost completely surrounded by sand-coloured buildings, the square looked empty.

"Normally, here’s always something going on - there are a few cafés, which are unfortunately still closed, and you can also shop here quite excellently. The slightly bigger buildings you see... they're all flats," she told Martin as she walked. "There used to be a lot of fortifications and a British barracks complex, but it was all redeveloped many years ago."

She walked across the square, walking through a narrow alleyway, past the apartment buildings that faced directly towards the sea and Valletta.

"Wow.", she heard Martin's voice as the camera showed the impressive view over the sea and Valletta. He saw the brilliant sun, the glittering sea, small sailboats, the skyline of Valletta - and the greenery that lined Emma's path. "This is a breathtaking view," the nasal voice spoke. "It looks really impressive - and I just fly to Italy every year, what a shame."

Emma strolled along a footpath that led past the sea - taking her time, letting Martin enjoy the view. 

"You often see other places during your work - but maybe now I can whet your appetite for Malta with this little sightseeing date."  
"I've been craving Malta for a while now," he flirted.  
"You are very welcome... " she breathed and turned the camera for a moment, showing him her smiling and beaming eyes as she had to wear a mask not just inside grocery stores and other shops or buildings but also outside.

Martin beamed at her, waved joyfully, winked. 

"How warm is it? I want to imagine it on my skin."  
"Twenty-eight degrees." she smiled with her eyes and it was pretty clear that she was smiling behind her mask.  
"What does it smell like?" he asked as he lay on the couch - it wasn't 28 degrees in Hampstead, since noon he had to live with bolts of lightning and heavy rain drumming against the windowpanes.  
"Hmhh... " Emma breathed in the air deeply. "It smells warm, like the sea; it smells refreshing, mildly like flowers, summery."

Smiling and with beaming eyes, she looked at him, turning the camera, showing Martin the surroundings and the view again.

She was still walking along the sea, no longer walking on a green-bordered path, she had changed to a street that was quite busy. 

"Where are you taking me now?" asked Martin.  
"I'm kidnapping you to the ferry. We're going to Valletta," she told him. "The ferry leaves every half hour from Sliema at 6:45am and from Valletta at 7:00am. In the summer, the last departure is midnight and in winter it's around 7pm."  
"How long does the journey take?"  
"Around fifteen minutes."

Emma walked with Martin to the small departure port - the ferry was already waiting in the harbour.  
She greeted the woman at the boarding gate, showed her the annual pass; she used the ferry most of the time. 

"The ferry is very busy, especially in the high season - it's nice that it's not that busy at the moment," she said in a smiling voice.  
"I can imagine - Laura did send lots of pictures, but Malta looks even more beautiful during this sightseeing tour with you than it did in the pictures," he enthused - enjoying what he was seeing, feeling as if he was on a little holiday with the most stunning woman on planet earth; he had completely switched off his own surroundings; his eyes didn’t notice his own living room any longer. "Is the ferry occupied the whole year?"  
"Oh, my handsome friend from England, it’s even more beautiful without Skype." she flirted, standing on the deck of the ferry. "Generally, yes. But if it's too stormy, all trips of this ferry are cancelled. The big ferry from Cirkewwa, that's in the north of Malta, to Gozo, doesn’t cancel its trips and is occupied almost 24 hours 7 days a week. There are often cancellations in December - it's often stormy in December and it’s the month with the most days of rain."

Emma glanced at Martin, eyed him, beamed at the man lounging on the couch - very casual and comfortable, yet his face beamed, showing not only pleasure and delight about the date, but immense interest in her little stories and facts; she could see he was hanging on her every word, soaking in every piece of information.  
She sensed that his full attention was with her, the date and the sightseeing tour. 

The camera showed the sea and a small island that lay in the bay between Sliema and Valletta.

"The area I am showing you right now is Marsamxett Harbour, which includes the small island - Manoel Island. It can be entered via a bridge, but it also has its own small yacht harbour. You can't see that right now - from the bastions in Valletta you can see the whole island; but in the end there's not much more than an old fort and the yacht harbour."

The ferry started to move.

Martin's ears were listening to Emma, his lips asking her questions non-stop as soon as she wasn't saying something.  
He enjoyed the view, enjoyed the culture, enjoyed Emma's sightseeing tour and their date.  
He enjoyed all the information, stored them, deepened and expanded his knowledge about Malta with new questions.  
Martin was excited about today's date.  
It was a very extraordinary way to have dates, but as much as he would love to have dates in person, he very much loved these extraordinary dates with her – and he could say without a doubt that he had never enjoyed dates as much as the ones with Emma. 

Emma enjoyed Martin's interest, the attention he gave her - and she realised that he was even more curious than Laura and Lamar; and the two of them had already asked more questions than there were on planet earth.  
Again and again, she had to smile - it was almost as if she was on a trip with a little curious boy who pointed at everything and wanted to know what it was, what you could do there, why it was there, how long it had been there.  
It made her heart pound faster, it made her tummy tingle.  
It was wonderful to take him on this little sightseeing trip - especially since he still managed to flirt and banter in an incredibly authentic and charming way, despite him listening and asking more questions than there were in the entire universe. 

It was not only a joint sightseeing date and trip, it was also another opportunity to flirt and banter, to dally amorously and cheekily, to chat and laugh, to get to know each other and to put the heart in each other's hands even more trustingly. 

Arriving in Valletta, Emma had led him through the streets of the capital - all the way to the Triton Fountain, telling him Valletta's story.  
And once again he had hung on her every word, enjoying the Maltese capital with its narrow rectilinear streets and the sand-coloured baroque houses with their colourful balconies and windows – his eyes shining, his lips smiling, looking all curious, relaxed, happy and euphoric.

He loved the architecture, he loved the walled old city; he loved the old alleys, the modern buildings, the traditional houses, with the colourful windows and balconies.  
Not only did his heart pound tremendously for the woman from Malta; his heart also began to skip a few beats for the country. 

Strolling, Emma led him through the city - she had already praised and thanked the power-bank in her backpack.  
She certainly wouldn't let a dead battery spoil this date.  
She couldn't keep Martin supplied with drinks and snacks during the date; so, she had to feed the phone with enough power.

"This is Upper Barrakka Gardens." she said as she entered a green park with various monuments and artwork. She led Martin through the park, guiding him through the greenery, along the monuments, along the artworks, along the memorial plaques that were placed under the arches of the arcades. "There is also a memorial to Winston Churchill and a memorial plaque to Albert Einstein," she told him as she led him through the park. "We're at the highest point of the city's fortification right now." She stepped through the arches of the arcades, presenting him a view of the sea and various skylines. 

She guided the camera, showing him various views - the Valletta Waterfront, where many cruise ships docked; the big shipyard, Fort St Angelo; the three towns of Vittorosia, Senglea and Cospicua; the Grand Harbour.

"I have a big desire to get on a plane right now and see this view and this city in person," he said, impressed, as his eyes flitted across the screen.  
"I have a big desire to go to the airport and pick you up," Emma smiled in a soft voice. 

She lowered the camera, showing Martin the Saluting Battery with all its big black cannons.

"They still fire a cannon every day at noon and 4pm. Unfortunately, we missed both today - but I wanted to meet up with you a little later to show you something else; at the end of our date." she smiled.  
"I'm looking forward to whatever you want to show me at the end of this very lovely date," he smiled. "What's the cannon shot for?"  
"It will be a very lovely ending of another very lovely date.", she breathed and then answered his question. "In the past, the Saluting Battery was used mainly for ceremonial occasions, but it was also used militarily. In those days, this shot was used to set the clocks on ships right again, because it was important for navigation - today they are simply used for tradition, and are still fired at 12 o'clock and 4 o'clock, as they were back then."  
"I like traditions," Martin smiled.  
"Me too.", breathed Emma. 

The sightseeing tour took them to Lower Barrakka Gardens, then through the alleyways, to St John's Co-Cathedral, along various shops and closed cafes. She took him to the St. Elmo Stone Bridge, led him through the small capital, which itself led its walking visitors very quickly to all the lovely spots.  
If they hadn't stopped again and again, if they hadn't enjoyed the view for a while and if Martin hadn't asked her to show him more alleys, the walk from the ferry port in Valletta and back would only have taken them a little more than an hour. 

But they had taken their time - Emma had given him time to wonder and admire, to enjoy and savour, to ask questions and to listen to the answers and her storytelling. 

They had arrived at the ferry port of Valletta shortly after 4pm, by now it was 6:30pm.  
The power-bank still had enough power for another few hours.  
The sun was still high up in the sky.

Emma led him through the city; she was walking with him across a large square, walking again into a small alleyway flooded with sunlight, whose stone floor resembled the one on the large square they had just crossed.

Emma showed Martin a red door and two large arched windows, each on one side of the red door; she guided the camera upwards, showed him a nostalgic sign that was showing a record and a name.

"Steaming Records!" said Martin excitedly. "Is that the little surprise at the end of our date?"

Emma turned the camera, pulled her mask under her chin, smiled at him, eyes now even more radiant.  
She smiled to Martin, unlocking the door to the shop with one hand as it had been closed half an hour ago.

"That's the appetiser."

She entered the shop, switched on the light, beamed at Martin.  
"You're an excellent companion - I could pack my whole backpack full of power-banks, taking you on a trip all over the island and archipelago. It's fantastic to see how much you enjoy this sightseeing tour. It’s lovely to hear all your interested and curios questions, to see you listening attentive and interested too. It's been a lot of fun and an absolute pleasure showing you a little bit of my country."  
Martin tilted his head, beaming at her in Malta.  
"I agree! This date you've come up with is breathtaking! Gosh, I really loved every minute of it so far. Your narration was great, what I saw was beautiful and I think I've already fallen a bit in love with Malta - and I think if you would have taken me on a trip all over the island and archipelago I would have fallen very much in love with this country. It was a stunning tour - I loved every aspect of it; your narrations, your answers to my questions, the little tea break ‘to go’, the break at St. Elmo Bridge,... even the toilet break," he smirked at the end.  
Emma closed the door behind her, smiled at Martin, winked at him. 

The camera's image turned again, showing the large room filled with various old sofas, arm chairs, coffee tables, vintage chairs and regular nostalgic tables; filled with old lamps, lots of pictures and nostalgic decor; filled with books and, above all, lots of records; the camera, in a way, was capturing Martin's paradise. 

"My dear Emma, I don't care how you do this right now, but you’ll beam me to you - right now!" Martin's voice rang out euphorically and ordering.  
Emma laughed, glancing at Martin, who was no longer lounging on the couch, but was suddenly sitting on the edge of his sofa, looking like he was about to jump through his laptop - eyes glowing like a little boy discovering a long-awaited wish under the Christmas tree.  
"I'm not Scotty from Star Trek, Martin."  
Martin shrugged as his eyes darted glowingly across the screen.  
"Please do not make your problem to mine."

Emma's hearty laugh rang out again. 

"I can't see you, you gorgeous lady - but I suspect you have something to say. You want to call me buffu again.", Martin grinned cheekily at the camera, because she could see him. 

And again, Emma laughed warmly and genuinely, amused and elated.

"You're a silly cheeky monkey." she laughed, and now heard Martin laugh heartily too - but she not only heard him, she saw him too. She loved to see him laugh, it looked cute when he laughed uproariously, putting his head back, closing his eyes. "The word was actually on my lips."

Martin wiggled his eyebrows, looking directly at the camera, knowing she could see him - he even stuck his tongue out briefly, winking at her afterwards in an extremely charming and flirtatious way.

Emma felt the goose bumps on her body, closed her eyes for a moment, enjoyed the fast-pounding heart that was constantly skipping beats because of him.

She put the mobile phone on a bookshelf, stepped in front of the camera.  
The brown eyes now looked directly into the camera, sparkling warmly and calmly and snugly.  
She brushed a loose strand behind her ear, smiled at the camera - couldn't guess that the butterflies in Martin's stomach were dancing wildly and untamed right now.

"Look around a bit, I'll be right back with you... I need a bathroom break now too."

Unnecessarily, Martin nodded, but then slipped in another 'yes' when he realised Emma couldn't see him right now.  
Emma disappeared from his view, but the record shop remained.

His eyes darted over the scenery.  
He had been in a lot of record stores, but this was by far the most beautiful one - and his mind was not just thinking that because a certain woman was the owner.  
He could hardly get enough of it.  
This store radiated an incredible warmth and cosiness and was definitely a place to linger and dwell.  
The interior was incredibly appealing to him, and he could only imagine the pleasant bustle, the homely and familiar atmosphere that prevailed in this store when there was no pandemic.  
It was quiet in the store, but he could hear the music in his ears, could hear the chatter and laughter in his ears, could hear footsteps, glasses, cups and cutlery; could hear the coffee machine.  
Laura had said he would hardly have left this shop - that was probably not quite right; if he would have been in Malta with them, both of them would probably have had to carry him out forcefully.  
His eyes gleamed at the nostalgic scenery.

There were probably incredible treasures to find in all those record shelves. 

He wasn't the type to fly to another country just to go shopping and indulge in culinary delights, just because he had the money - but for Steaming Records he would get on a plane just to browse through the records, eat a delicious piece of cake and drink a cup of tea. 

The image he saw changed.  
Emma appeared in front of his eyes.

She had turned the camera again, walked with Martin to one of the sofas, sat down with him, plugged the power-bank in again. 

"I know I could browse your newly established website, but couldn't you show me all the records on the spot right now?" he asked politely and excited, smiling.  
"Try to resist the website - and then I will,... maybe in a few months, show you the records in person, enjoying a tea or something else with you too; without a smartphone, without a laptop, without a barrier – just in person, up close. It's much nicer to browse through the records yourself and enjoy time in the record shop," she winked.  
"I'm curious and on pins and needles... but I love your answer better than the hoped-for 'Yes, I'll start right away,'" he smiled softly. "You guys really do have a breathtaking record store - if I ever visit it many months from now, you'll have to beat me out of it," he said, looking into Emma's smirking face. "... Or maybe you'll have to beat me in because I've fallen too much in love with Malta."

They looked at each other, smirked and grinned. 

The time in the store had flown by.

Emma had put on several records, had listened to the music with Martin, enjoyed the togetherness, the silence and the stillness - had just enjoyed watching Martin.  
But they had not only listened to the music; they had also eaten and drunk something, had chatted and told stories about their families, about friends, about little anecdotes; they hadn't been able to stop flirting, laughing and bantering with each other.  
Martin had savoured every second that he had been allowed to spend in an extraordinary way in this extraordinary record store with this extraordinary woman.

They had strolled back to the ferry port of Valletta, using the little alleyways.  
They had arrived on time for the next ferry and had been allowed to go straight on board.  
And once again they had retreated to the deck of the small ferry.

Emma stood at the railing, showing Martin the view, showing Martin the view in the sunset - it was 8:58 pm; the reddish, slightly orange sun had already sunk a little; it was turning the clouds in the sky pink, magically colouring the skylines of the Maltese cities, making the water glitter and sparkle in a very special colour.

"That's the dessert."

"I'm speechless." breathed Martin overwhelmed after a few moments.

Emma let her eyes wander to Martin, watching him marvel and enjoy.  
She gazed dreamily at him, barely able to tear her eyes away from him - in her eyes, the view of him was more beautiful than the sunset right now. 

"I want to see you," Martin breathed in a pleading voice.

Emma turned the camera, looked into the lens, smiled warmly and calmly.  
A smile spread across Martin's face, which was also very warm and calm.

"Thank you for this very special and extraordinary date." he thanked her with sincere British courtesy; his voice charming and warm. 

And as beautiful as the view of the sunset had been, he just looked into a face that without a doubt topped the gobsmacking beauty of the sunset.  
Emma, the woman from Malta.


	11. A Little Pinch of Malta & The Sea

_**\- Saturday, June/13 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

The chirping of birds mingled with the peace that swiped through Martin's flowering garden.  
The sun caressed the lawn, the flowers and bushes, the trees and the terrace where Martin enjoyed his breakfast. 

All by himself, he was enjoying his breakfast today, because last night he had taken Joe and Gracie back to Potters Bar.  
They hadn't spent two weeks together this time, because both he and Amanda had thought it would be better to shorten the stay to twelve days this time.  
On Monday, Joe's and Gracie's schools would reopen their doors under special conditions - and for this reason Amanda and Martin had decided that it would be better if their children spent the weekend at home in Potters Bar.  
Under normal circumstances, he would see his children on weekends during the terms, usually bringing them back on late Sunday afternoons, but these were not normal circumstances - the school had been closed for a long time due to the pandemic but would reopen its doors with special guidelines.  
They had wanted to use the weekend to bring some normality back into everyday life, so that Joe and Gracie could also get used to the idea of going back to school on Monday, and not seeing him every seven days for wonderful two weeks.  
All by himself, he enjoyed his breakfast in the sun. 

The intense time with his children had been wonderful and he had really enjoyed it, was still incredibly grateful to Amanda for this arrangement, for this intense time she had gifted him.  
Time with his children couldn't be intense enough for him; he couldn't spend too much time with his children, he would never complain about too much time with them - even if he sometimes wanted to launch them into outer space.  
During the summer holidays he would be able to spend time with them again; very intensively - and both Gracie's and Joe's schools had announced to extend the summer holidays by two weeks this year. Time for his children, time with his children - even if they would have to work on some schoolwork during the two extra weeks of summer holidays.  
Amanda had already granted him these two extra weeks - Amanda had granted him five and a half weeks out of this year's eight weeks of summer holidays; and he was also very grateful to Amanda for these weeks.  
This intensive time with his children this year meant a lot to him, not only because he adored his children, but also because family visits were very scarce this year, even though he would have the time to spend intensive time with his whole family this year.  
It was a curse - he had a lot of time at the moment, worked from home, could visit all his relatives and friends and enjoy time with them, but now that he had the time it was either forbidden or they didn't want to risk infecting each other. 

Martin looked into his garden, enjoyed the sun, leaned back, sipped his tea. 

This year was really extraordinary and very different from the way his life normally was.  
Lots of time at home; lots of time for books and music; lots of time for his children; lots of rest; working via Skype and FaceTime and Zoom; very few face-to-face meetings; lots of time in Hampstead, London.  
This year was extraordinary not only professionally, personally and daily, but also in terms of love. 

His heartbeat skyrocketed as he thought of Emma, as his head also made his heart and stomach think of Emma. 

If someone had told him that he would meet a woman via Skype, that he would go on dates via Skype, that he would fall in love with a woman whom he would only see via Skype, he might have declared them as a crazy, mad and insane lunatic. 

But now he had met a woman via Skype, enjoyed daily Skype meetings with her, enjoyed a Skype date here and there with her; now he had fallen in love with a woman he had only seen via Skype so far - no personal meeting, no real and physical date.  
And yet there was a deep and magical connection that he felt with no one else in this intensity.  
It was an extraordinary yet welcome feeling. 

Before his thoughts could sink into uncertainty about her feelings and his age, the doorbell distracted him. 

Martin blinked several times, put down his cup.  
The doorbell had distracted him just in time before he himself had realised that his thoughts had wanted to plunge him again into insecurities about her feelings and how she felt about his age.  
Martin got up, walked into the house, walked to the front door. 

He scratched his bearded cheek, rubbed his head, stroked his still very short hair.  
He wasn't really expecting anyone - he had no appointment, hadn't ordered any food and no groceries; and he wasn't really expecting a package. 

Martin opened the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Freeman." the Royal Mail man greeted him with sufficient distance and a dark mask emblazoned with the Royal Mail logo. He gestured next to the front door. "I had a parcel for you. Have a nice day and enjoy the parcel.", the man smiled - you could see his smile in his eyes. 

Martin traced his finger with his gaze, saw indeed a parcel standing next to his front door, quite a large parcel in fact. He tilted his head, looked back at the postman.  
"Thank you. Have a nice day too," he smiled at him.  
The Royal Mail man nodded, raised his hand in farewell and walked back to his red van. 

Martin watched him walking for a moment, then looked back down at the parcel.  
Had he ordered something after all?  
He frowned - either he was getting old or forgetful; maybe both.  
Or maybe someone had just secretly sent him a package to give him a treat.  
Martin got down on his knees, turned the package towards him - it was heavy.

His eyes looked at the blue post stamp - the blue of his eyes sparkled, shone and glittered like the vast sea.

A red postmark - Malta Air Mail.

His eyes darted to the sender - the blue of his eyes was glowing, the heart was in his mouth, the butterflies were celebrating in his stomach.  
He had totally forgotten that he had given Emma his address a few days ago - he hadn't even thought about the fact that she might want to send him something to London; he had simply given her the address when she had asked for it, sinking into a new interesting conversation with her right afterwards.  
It had happened casually - deliberately; for there was great and deep trust in Emma, and so far he had not regretted it even a teensy bit.

_Ms. Emma Louisa De Laurentiis  
Tigné Point Q1 Apartments  
Pjazza Tigné  
Tigné Point TP01  
Malta_

Martin grabbed the parcel with both hands, carried it into the house with a beaming smile, kicked the door shut with his foot.

Excitedly, he carried the heavy parcel out onto the terrace, placed it on the covered wooden table, set it down next to his breakfast.  
Excited and hastily, he grabbed the sharp breakfast knife and opened the package all jittery.

He had actually not remembered that he had given Emma his address, so he had not expected a package from her at all.  
He was curious to see what she had sent him - and even before he knew what was in the parcel, he felt not only joyful excitement, but also affection.  
No matter what she had sent him to London, he was touched that she had thought of him, that she had sent him a package without a special occasion.

Curious, he opened the package.

At first he could see nothing more than an envelope lying on top of various wrapped parcels.  
Excited and curious, he opened the envelope, pulled out a letter and a postcard.

His head tilted, he looked at the card, which showed the blue sea and colourful fishing boats, with a small harbour and typical Maltese houses in the background. 

https://i1.wp.com/revealmalta.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/05/A-Guide-To-The-Perfect-Day-in-Marsaxlokk.jpg?fit=1920%2C1015&ssl=1

His eyes scrutinised the postcard - he saw a photograph, but his fingers felt an acrylic painting. His fingertips clearly felt that this card had been painted, but his eyes told him that he was holding a photograph in his hand.  
It were his eyes that deceived him - it were his eyes that could make out fine handwriting in the bottom corner: Charlie Darlington.

Emma drew you this postcard - his head told him.

He beamed at the card in fascination, turned it over, could read a name on the back, also in a very beautiful and fine handwriting:  
Marsaxlokk  
He didn't know too much about Malta’s cities, but Emma had already told him about this place - a small traditional fishing town in the south of Malta.

With a pounding heart, he leaned the postcard against the saltshaker. He swallowed, rubbed the back of his neck; he was touched and overwhelmed that Emma had drawn him the postcard - and it was amazing how incredibly realistic she could paint pictures even in the size of a postcard.  
Once again he was impressed by her artistic talent, once again it took his breath away.

His eyes tore away from the postcard only after a few minutes, blinking several times.  
His fingers unfolded the letter, his eyes read it with a touched, beating heart.

_Dear Martin,_

_since you enjoyed our date on the beach, on the ferry and in Valletta so very much, I thought I'd take you out for a little trip again.  
Enjoy the parcels and the little trip to Malta. _

_With Love  
Emma_

Martin took a deep breath - with this package he saw Emma's handwriting for the first time; with this package she had given him an incredible lovely and touching treat.  
He looked at the letter with a smile - oh yes, he had enjoyed the trip with her, this sightseeing date; he had enjoyed it very much indeed.  
The smile grew bigger - it was lovely that she was taking him out for another little trip; again, in a very extraordinary way.

He put the letter aside, took the first parcel out of the package, unwrapped it excitedly and jittery, opened the cardboard box as well.  
And in his hands he held a flat but wide glass bottle with two cavities - in one of the cavities was water, in the other cavity was sand.  
He recognised the bottle - the labels had been neatly removed, but still he recognised the bottle that normally held Sheridan's Coffee Liqueur.  
He tilted his head, took the note that was still in the cardboard box; he read Emma's little message.

 _A pinch of the sea and a pinch of the beach_

Martin's eyes glanced at the bottle again; a broad smile spread across his face. By the look of it, she had bottled him sand from the beach in Malta and water from the Mediterranean Sea.  
He looked enthusiastically at the bottle, could hear the sea roaring in his ears, could sense the salty smell in his nose and taste on his tongue, felt the warm sand under his feet. 

He rubbed his arms, goose bumps had spread all over his body - he was incredibly touched by the first little parcel.

His eyes glanced at the bottle again, but his hands grabbed the next package - he was just too curious right now, couldn't wait any longer to unwrap the next little parcel. 

He removed the paper, opened the cardboard box, which like the previous one had been well padded. He found a single Capri Sun inside. A knowing grin was already spreading on his face, and yet he took the piece of paper that lay in the cardboard box - he wanted to see Emma's writing again.  
He read her words.

_A pinch of sunshine ;-)_

He had to laugh, glancing at the orange-flavoured Capri Sun. His laughter resounded heartily and boisterously in the garden; he shook his head in amusement - God, how he loved to laugh because of her, and the little joke absolutely was his humour.

Wiping the tears of laughter from under his eyes, he unwrapped the next parcel. He opened the cardboard box, glanced at a bottle that was in the middle of the padding - a bottle of Kinnie.  
He smiled, took her note.

_Lots of warm Maltese sun makes us thirsty – let’s take a little break and have a drink._

Martin smiled at her message, actually sat down. The little messages were damn cute - and above all they gave him the impression of actually being on a trip with her.  
He opened the bottle, put it to his lips - tasting the sparkling, sweet and bitter drink.  
He licked his lips after swallowing - he liked bitter drinks, and this national drink from Malta was very tasty in his opinion.  
His heart pounded fast against his rib cage - heavily in love with the sender. 

He screwed the lid on the bottle, set it aside so he wouldn't immediately empty the entire lemonade with relish.  
His hands took out another parcel - Emma had done a great job packing the package, the parcels seemed to be arranged in a very specific order.  
He removed the paper, opened another cardboard box, again padded - inside was a fine and beautiful transparent bag in which he could make out biscuits.  
His fingers took her note, his eyes read her message.

_A trip across the island makes us hungry too -let’s enjoy the little snack in the sunshine, at the sea and the beach.  
(We enjoy Biskuttini Tar Rahal (village biscuits) with cloves, cinnamon, aniseed and a subtle citrus note)._

Martin opened the fine package, could hardly put into words how thrilled and touched he was. He took one of the biscuits out of the bag, bit into it, closed his eyes with relish, leaned back in his chair.  
He licked his lips after the first bite, looked at the postcard, at the bottle in which the sea and the beach were cavorting, and at the Capri sun.  
He ate the biscuit with relish, imagined that he was on a trip with Emma - in front of him he saw Marsaxlokk, the sea and a bit of the beach; he felt the sun on his skin; he felt Emma very close to him; he tasted aniseed, cloves and cinnamon on his tongue, smelled the sea, listened to Emma's voice.

His heart pounded wildly and forcefully against his ribcage, skipped lots of beats.  
The idea and especially this package took his breath away.  
He could not remember a package that ever touched him this much. 

He had to clear his throat, even swallowed down a lump in his throat.

He'd better put the biscuits to the Kinnie, otherwise they would have disappeared into his stomach as quickly as the delicious national drink.

Again, his hands reached into the package - two more parcels. He grabbed the next one, opened it with excitement and curiosity, with euphoria and affection.  
In this parcel, too, there was padding in the cardboard box, inside was also a fine transparent bag, inside apparently some kind of pastry.  
Before reaching into the bag with relish, he read Emma's message.

_'Since I know you like to snack, I packed another snack for our little trip.  
(Imqaret - they are filled with dates and aniseed liqueur)._

He would definitely have to put that bag on the side too.  
He licked his lips, opened the fine bag, took out one of the little pastries, preferred to put the bag aside immediately - he bit into it with relish, closed his eyes again, savoured the taste, celebrated the enjoyment. 

She was absolutely spoiling him - this package was not just a little trip, this package was a pampering programme and an incredibly touching gesture.

He still had a lump in his throat, rubbed his neck, cleared his throat.  
He was a sensitive man, but even he was surprised that this package from Malta touched and affected him like this – he bit his lip, raised his index finger, caressed from one corner of his right eye to the other corner of his right eye; he caught a tear with his index finger.  
Again, he cleared his throat.

He grabbed the last parcel out of the package, opened it too, found another beautiful cardboard box.  
He opened the lid, looked at a filled glass bottle; a reddish, slightly pink liquid; he could make out prickly pears on the label - he read the label:  
Bajtra Liqueur  
Smiling, he took Emma's last note in his hand.

_Tastes best on ice and when skyping._

The smile on Martin's face grew bigger. He put the liqueur to the side, would not taste it now - he would have a drink with Emma later.  
Unfortunately, he would have to wait until the afternoon for that. 

It was a shame that she was impossibly close to him right now, but in reality far too distant from him.  
What he really needed now was to hug her and be hugged by her.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_**\- the same day, in the afternoon -**_

Martin looked radiantly into the camera when it was finally afternoon and he saw Emma close and yet far too far away from him.  
He beamed, raised a whisky glass containing a reddish, slightly pink liquid and ice cubes.

"I'd like to have a drink with you to say thank you for that very amazing and lovely little trip today," he breathed.

Emma beamed at him.  
"Aw! The package has arrived! Wait! Wait a minute!" she rejoiced.  
Emma stood up, and suddenly she wasn’t seen on Martin’s screen any longer. 

Martin lowered the glass; his blue eyes sparkled.  
If his insecurities about her feelings of his age were true, if she was actually looking for a partner her own age and didn't want a relationship with a man 18 years her senior, he would have one hell of a problem - piss-poor and desperate love-sickness and an incurable broken heart.  
His thoughts once again failed to plunge him into this insecurity, once again failed to tell him that he was actually just hoping for a happy ending but that he didn't even dare to believe in it - Emma reappeared in front of the camera.

She raised her glass, which also contained ice cubes and prickly pear liqueur.  
"I hope you enjoyed the little trip," she breathed softly.  
Her smile was warm.

Martin raised his glass, was toasting her - he could hear the glasses clink. 

Together with Emma, he sipped the liqueur - he briefly closed his eyes with pleasure; the liqueur tasted sweet and simply fantastic.  
Why had he never actually been to Malta before - he had the impression that he would have fallen in love with this country very quickly - culinary and also cultural.  
He had already fallen in love with a local girl.

"The trip was breathtaking," he breathed. "Thank you Emma! I totally forgot I gave you my address," he said. "Thank you for this stunning package. It literally took my breath away. And I'm not exaggerating. Thank you! You have touched and affected me so much with this package, with the little parcels and these notes. I can't remember ever having received such a great package before. I'm really not too embarrassed to admit that I'm sensitive - but it surprised even me how moved and touched I was by your package, and how much it affected me," he admitted openly and sincerely.

Emma tilted her head - her smile becoming even warmer and gentler; her brown eyes glowing with enthusiasm and tenderness.

"I'm really pleased to have treated you this well with my package. I wanted to bring Malta a little closer to you - it seems much further away at the moment. It's nice that you liked it, that you enjoyed this trip - maybe you can enjoy a few more of these trips." she winked. 

Martin beamed.

"I haven't eaten it all yet. It was very tasty - but I'll divide it so I can have a few more trips with you. Did you make the biscuits and pastries yourself, like the postcard?"  
"I did," she breathed softly. "You shouldn't leave the Kinnie in the fridge too long, it's not as tasty without carbonation."  
"You really are an absolute sweetheart, Emma. Thanks for the effort and all the work." he breathed, touched, then his eyes glowed again with enthusiasm. "The postcard is amazing - I could feel you had painted it, but I couldn't see it, and I really spent minutes looking for a clue so my eyes could also see that it had been painted and I wasn't holding a photograph," he gushed praising. "Now you're being humble again," he winked. "Thanks again, Emma. Right now, I can reach out and touch you but not feel you - if you were as close to me without that pesky laptop, I'd hug you," he flirted.  
Emma smiled, brushed her hair behind her ear, beamed at him.  
"A hug would definitely feel very lovely," she breathed. 

Martin looked to her - he loved seeing and hearing her, but with each Skype meeting the longing and missing grew, as did the desire and longing to feel and smell her. 

"It certainly would," he breathed too.

They smiled at each other.  
Emma brushed her hair behind her ear again, played briefly with her earlobe.  
She eyed him with her eyes, loving what she saw.  
Martin rubbed his beard, rubbed the back of his neck, stroked his very short hair.  
He studied her with his eyes, loving what he saw.  
They smiled at each other, raised their glasses again, sipped the reddish, slightly pink liquid again, enjoyed the sweet taste of prickly pear.

They enjoyed the end of their little extraordinary trip with the sweetness of prickly pear, with the warmth of the sun, with the sandily beach and salty beach – it was a pinch of Malta, but it meant so much more to Martin.


	12. Grandma Carlotta's Extraordinary Recipe Book

_**\- Wednesday, June/24 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

"I still don't understand why it didn't matter whether I buy red wine, white wine or rosé for the recipe - especially as it generally didn't matter which one I use," Martin said, irritated and uncomprehending.

He was standing in his kitchen - wearing jeans and a polo shirt, casually with socks.  
The kitchen island was packed with a wide variety of ingredients.

Brown rice, onions, garlic, marjoram, mint, olive oil, tomato paste, whole tomatoes, sea salt, fish stock, very ordinary water, black pepper, lemons, a pound of halibut, flour, salt, sugar, yeast, margarine, eggs and milk.  
A bottle of wine – after careful consideration he had decided on white wine; Chardonnay. 

He stood in the kitchen, listening to music that was not playing in his house.  
He stood in the kitchen, looking into the laptop – looking to Malta, where the music was coming from; looking to his date.

Emma had asked him out on another date a few days ago, during one of their Skype meetings.  
Tonight, they would cook together.  
And not only Martin had been shopping for it this morning, but also Emma. 

Emma's kitchen island was also packed with a wide variety of ingredients, but they were no different from the ingredients in London - apart from the wine, because she had chosen a sweet red wine.

"It really doesn't matter what wine you use," Emma smiled with a wink.  
"How can that be?" asked Martin, still completely confused.  
"I'll explain it to you," she winked again, "You need the wine glass for that."  
"Okay." said Martin, shrugging his shoulders.

He grabbed the white wine glass, took the Chardonnay he had already opened, and poured a little bit into the glass.  
"More.", Emma smiled.  
Martin looked into the glass Emma was able to see, poured some more wine in it - the glass was now half full.  
"That's enough for now," Emma stopped him.  
Martin put the bottle back on the kitchen island, looked at Emma.

"And what do I do with it now?" he asked, his blue eyes fixed on Emma desperate for help.  
"Drink it.", Emma grinned.

Martin rolled his eyes, smirking.  
"Are you serious?! There's no way that's in the recipe!"  
"Of course, it's in the recipe," Emma grinned. She held up a book, showed it to the camera. "This is a recipe book my grandma gave me; and written down very neatly is that you need a bottle of wine."  
"Probably to use it for cooking, Emma," Martin grinned.  
"Fiddlesticks." grinned Emma - raising her index finger, glancing to London. "My grandma always says the most important ingredient for cooking is a bottle of wine to enjoy."

Martin shook his head in amusement, grinning and laughing - he glanced at Emma, listening again to her words.

"The book is full of recipes - and there is mention of a bottle of wine in every recipe." She held the book up to the camera, showing the pages she had opened. Sure enough, there was an extra bottle of wine listed. "And it says that you need one glass of wine for every 15 minutes of baking or cooking," Emma grinned. "To be honest, she refills your glass faster when cooking with her though."

Martin laughed heartily.

"You can't drink that fast, Emma."  
"But you can refill it that fast." she grinned. "You shouldn't cook with my grandma, she practically refills it as soon as you sip a little of it." She had to laugh as she looked up into Martin's face. "I'm serious," she laughed. "My dad's always scolding her for drinking so much wine when she's baking and cooking. But she always says that's what her grandma used to do, and she had been 102 years old."  
"I like your grandma," he grinned. 

Emma winked at him.

"She likes you too." she wiggled her eyebrows and imitated her grandma. "He always gets so angry and grumpy and swears a lot. I love that." She winked at Martin again. "She loved Breeders." she said, mimicking her grandma again. "Emma, look... now! Now! Now he's about to get grumpy again. Now he's about to swear again. Delightful!" she imitated her grandma's enthusiastic voice, even fidgeting as euphorically as her grandma on the edge of the sofa.

Martin laughed heartily, even holding his stomach. 

"I told you I liked your granny," he grinned - and then he raised his wine glass. "Let's toast her great motto - after all, I just learned that the most important ingredient for cooking is a bottle of wine to enjoy."

Emma grinned, smirked, then smiled - had filled her wine glass even before calling him.  
She took the glass and clinked glasses with him, looking deep into his eyes. 

Together they sipped the wine. 

The mood between them was relaxed and easy, harmonious and buoyant, even with the distance one could sense the romantic crackles and sparkles.  
Both had been looking forward to the date, both had been looking forward to the other, even though they had only 'met' yesterday.  
But they enjoyed each other's company, and a date was, after all, different from a meeting between friends. 

Martin put down the wine glass.  
"Okay." He rubbed his hands together. "I'm ready to cook. What can I do, woman from Malta?" he winked, full of energy.  
Emma looked energised too, beaming at Martin.  
"Okay,... man from England. You need 600 grams of flour, 10 grams of salt and 15 grams of margarine - mix it all together nicely and then add the 25 grams of yeast."  
Martin nodded, listening to her words.

The music in the background came from Malta – it was a jazz record. 

Together they were busy in the kitchen, together they followed the first steps of the recipe - Emma in Sliema, Martin in London; and yet they felt much closer to each other.  
The ingredients were mixed, the yeast was added.

Martin looked at the camera, looked at Emma, couldn't help but smile and beam – immediately, he felt the butterflies in his stomach and his heart skipping beats.  
"What's next?" he asked.  
"We need 345 millilitres of lukewarm water, 15 grams of sugar and a tablespoon of milk. We also need to mix these ingredients. When we are done with that, we add that mixture to the flour mixture; then we have to knead it properly - until the dough is nice and white and elastic.", Emma gave the next instruction.  
Martin nodded again. 

He was not the only one sipping from his wine glass before following the next steps. 

The ingredients were measured, mixed together - and when they added it to the flour mixture, their hands also found their way into the bowl.  
They kneaded the dough.

"Do you massage as lovingly as you knead this dough?" asked Emma in a flirtatious voice.  
"I do a lot of other things very lovingly with my hands," Martin winked flirtatiously.  
"Like what?" smiled Emma in a charming voice.  
"Like this... and that..." he winked flirtatiously. "That's exclusive information I'm only revealing with the implementation," he flirted charmingly. 

Emma smiled at him - clearly signalling that she loved that he wasn't spilling the beans. 

"I think we've been... fondling the dough long enough," Martin winked again, very charming and flirtatious.  
Emma blinked briefly, stopping the kneading - in fact, her dough was already white and elastic.  
"Um... yes." she said, having to return to the cooking, for his flirting had sent her into a whole other world. "The bowl needs to be covered, preferably with cling film and a wet tea towel - then we need a warm place. And then we have an hour for chatting and the most important ingredient."

An hour passed while chatting and drinking wine.  
An hour passed while laughing and bantering.  
An hour passed while enjoying time together.  
An hour passed with romantic crackles and sparkles.  
An hour passed with flirtatious words.  
An hour passed with fondness and interest, with butterflies and skipping hearts 

A few minutes passed in which they cut the dough into small pieces, placing them on the baking tray, covering them with egg and cutting them with a knife. 

15 minutes passed in which they let the dough rest on the baking sheets, which would later become Maltese bread in the oven.  
15 minutes passed during which they cleaned the kitchen, during which they drank more of the most important ingredient. 

"Woman from Malta, how many degrees did you just say?" asked Martin, who was standing by the oven.  
"If you can set it quite accurately, 232; otherwise 230, man from England."

Martin typed in the degrees, set the time to 12 minutes for now, as Emma had said it would take about 12 to 15 minutes.  
He came back to the kitchen island, glanced at Emma who was waiting for him. 

"Hey... ", Emma smiled with a calm and warm look, unconsciously making Martin's heart pound faster with just that word.  
Martin rubbed the back of his neck - he was overwhelmed, again and again; could hardly believe what this woman was doing to him, that she took his breath away with just a little word.  
"Hey... " he smiled, his voice calm, a little shy. 

"Ready for the fish soup?"  
"Ready.", he nodded.  
"So Aljotto is a traditional fish soup - you can use any white fish with it, we chose halibut. A nice decision of yours because I like it best with halibut. Ultimately, you could mix up different fish if you wanted to."  
"I like halibut very much too," he smiled. "What can I do first?"  
"You could pre-cook the brown rice," she smiled.

And she got to work with him.

"Can you use white rice as well?"  
"Do you like cooking in general?"

Two questions at the same time - they turned their heads to the laptop, smiling at each other; Martin made a gesture that he would answer her question first.

"I actually love cooking a lot. Often I don't have the time, sometimes I honestly don't feel like it, or rather I don't have the energy anymore. But in general, I really love to cook - also with Joe and Gracie, or alone just for me, but preferably in company."  
"Cooking together is actually the most fun," Emma commented his answer as she prepared the brown rice. "To your question - you can also use white rice. But I think it tastes much better with brown rice - it just has a more intense flavour," she said.

After a few minutes they met at the kitchen island for a brief moment again – the whole time, Martin could listen to the soft female voice telling him what to do.  
The bread smelled outrageously good by now.  
They cut a large onion, chopped four cloves of garlic, sauteed both slowly in a pot, waited for the onions to become translucent - they had seasoned it a little bit with salt.  
They peeled the four tomatoes, then cut them into small pieces, while the bread baked, and the onions and garlic cloves steamed slowly in the pot.

Time passed and Martin enjoyed the extraordinary cooking date very much. 

"Fuck!", Martin's voice rang out as the oven unexpectedly signalled that 12 minutes had passed. He clutched his chest, "I forgot I had set the alarm."  
Emma turned her head to the laptop, grinning broadly.  
"Are you always this jumpy, scaredy-cat?"  
"Are you always this cheeky, missy?" he grinned. "Fuck!" he winced again as Emma’s oven beeped shrilly. He pointed a finger at her because she was laughing. "Sometimes." he answered her question.  
"I'm no cheekier than you are," Emma grinned. 

They took the small loaves out of the oven.

"That both reassures and worries me, because I know how cheeky I can be," Martin grinned as he put the tray down on a rack, taking the cooking gloves off again.  
"Don't worry, I can be very sweet too," she smiled sugary sweet.

Her fingers pointed to his cooker.

"Man from England,... you must now put a teaspoon of marjoram, a teaspoon of mint, a tablespoon of tomato paste and the sliced tomatoes into the pot. And bring it to boil," she smiled. 

Martin was following her instructions and turning back to the laptop. 

"Woman from Malta, you messed up that nice top of yours," he winked.  
"I know,... I've already seen it. Tomato paste.", she said. "I have a knack for it.", she covered the stain with her hand.  
"I have a knack for it too.", he smiled - and with his comment, she lowered her hand and released the stain again.  
"Then I won't have to be embarrassed," she said with a smile. "When it boils, Martin... you can add the two cups of fish stock and the one cup of water, and some pepper. And then simmer it for a while."  
"Alright," he smiled.

Even though she was far away, he had the feeling that she was much closer to him.  
He loved the harmony between them.  
He loved this silence between them - and he didn't necessarily mean silence in terms of not speaking with each other, but rather the peace he felt and sensed with her, which she radiated; it was very relaxed and easy-going between them, very cosy and comfortable.

He listened to Emma's words, cooked with her, enjoyed the mood and atmosphere of their date, enjoyed the fact that despite this extraordinary situation and distance, a very romantic atmosphere had been created.  
He listened to Emma's stories, cooked with her, drank wine with her, followed her instructions - it smelled wonderful in his kitchen; his stomach growled.  
The halibut was placed in the pot; cooking it in the next five to ten minutes, then cutting it into small pieces with a wooden spoon directly in the pot.

"After that, just add the rice - and then we can enjoy the meal," he heard her voice again. "You can add a tablespoon of lemon juice when the food is on the plate. But you don't have to. My grandma likes it with a tablespoon of lemon; for me, a teaspoon is enough."

Martin turned around, looked at Emma, glanced at the laptop - he nodded.

"We should toast your grandma again - I really like her recipe book and cooking motto, even though I might be a bit drunk already," he smirked. "It's your fault, woman from Malta! You kept tempting me to drink wine. And now there's just enough left for a small glass of wine during dinner."  
Emma turned to him as well; she smirked, standing by the cooker.  
"Drunken man from England..." she began with a grin. "If you'd cooked with Grandma Carlotta, you wouldn't even have a small glass of wine left for dinner."

Martin laughed and shook his head in amusement.

"By the way, my handsome cooking partner... " she flirted with him. "You could also toast the bread slices and eat them with olives, with the soup, or with olive oil."  
Martin smiled, loved the flirting, loved her compliments - they really did him good.  
"How do you prefer to eat the bread with it?" he asked her.  
"My favourite is to dip it," she smiled and came closer.

Emma picked up her wine glass, watched as Martin also came closer, as Martin also picked up the wine glass.  
There was still a little bit of wine left in their glasses.  
There was another small glass of wine left in their bottles.  
Martin smiled at her.

"Thank you, for inviting me on this really very lovely cooking date. I had lots of fun cooking with you. And even with that tomato stain on your white top, you still look outrageously cute." he winked flirtatiously. "So, to this lovely date, to the extraordinary cookbook, the best motto in cooking, and to Grandma Carlotta," he smiled softly.

Emma tilted her head, nodding at him with hot cheeks - she loved those charming compliments he just casually dropped into his conversations; naturally and authentically.

She clinked glasses with him, showing him a joyful smile - to Grandma Carlotta, who had given her the idea for this date in the first place.


	13. Popcorn & Cheese Nachos

_**\- Saturday, July/11 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

** Martin's POV **

Hectically I rubbed the towel over my short hair, over my shoulders and arms, over my back and legs, over my stomach and chest.  
Hectically I dried myself - where had the time gone?

I would be able to enjoy another date with Emma in fifteen minutes and I had only just got out of the shower.  
For once I hadn't wasted my time thinking about an outfit and yet here I was, not knowing where the time had gone. 

Naked, I walked through the bathroom, hung up the towel, stood at the sink, looked in the mirror.  
I should definitely do some exercise again and watch what I eat instead of lounging on the couch for the most part of the day during this pandemic, snacking constantly - I had definitely put on weight since the lockdown in March.  
Despite the beard, I could see it clearly on my face, and even more clearly on my naked torso - there was a small belly; I had never really done any constant training in the gym, and sometimes there had been a small belly over the last few years, but often it had just been soft and flat.  
I definitely had to pay more attention to my eating habits and start exercising again - I even had the opportunity to do so here at home.  
I stroked the small belly - that was definitely a bit too much in my opinion.  
My hand reached for the razor.

Tomorrow - tomorrow I would start exercising and eating sensibly again, because today I had a date with Emma and we were going to 'go to the cinema'; and as we all knew, there was popcorn and other goodies. 

The resolution was set, and I was sure I would keep it, because I was going to ask Emma if she would like to visit me in a couple of weeks - and by then, most of this fat had to be gone.  
This beautiful young woman from Malta was a very good motivation. 

My heart pounded faster as I trimmed my beard.  
Due to daily skyping, I already knew her very well, could already judge her well.  
There was a feeling inside me that told me she would probably still find me attractive even with a small or bigger belly. But I wanted to increase my chances of a romantic happy ending - my head didn't believe in that happy ending, kept telling me that I was probably much too old for her, so I didn't need to get fat too. 

I put the razor aside, shaking my head at my own twisted thoughts.  
So far I hadn't got the impression that Emma paid much attention to appearances, and I didn't want a woman at my side who cared more about her appearance than about her inner values, neither in herself nor in others - actually, I didn't need this breathtaking woman as motivation to lose weight, because I really wanted to do it for myself and my health. 

"You could just shut your fucking mouth up there," I grumbled to myself, talking to my head.

I rinsed out the sink and walked naked out of the en-suite bathroom, having already laid out my clothes before taking a shower.  
I slipped into the black boxers, slipped into the contrasting-coloured socks, slipped into the blue jeans and grabbed the long-sleeved black polo shirt - I pulled it over my head. 

My feet carried me back to the bathroom - a glance in the mirror; my hands adjusted the collar of the polo shirt; I used perfume.  
My feet carried me down to the ground floor - another look in the mirror, this time the whole body; my hands grabbed sneakers, my feet slipped into them; my fingers grabbed the watch lying on the dresser in the entrance hall; I strapped it around my wrist.

Only three minutes left. 

I took a deep breath, stood in front of the mirror again, rubbed across my polo shirt, straightened it. 

I was excited - it wasn’t the first date I ever had, nor the first date with Emma, and so far our dates had been just fantastic; but every time I got excited and nervous again.  
So far, our dates had been the best I'd ever had in my life - and they'd taken place in a very extraordinary way.  
Still, my heart was beating excitedly, far too excitedly - I was afraid every time to mess it up completely; to just screw it up before there was even a beginning.

There was already my head, which believed something different than my heart and stomach hoped - I didn't want to completely mess up my chance, which I thought was extremely slim anyway, by being stupid. 

Laura and Lamar had brought me a wonderful souvenir back from Malta; and they were right, Emma could be my home, I could possibly enjoy this souvenir for the rest of my life - I just had to do it right, but to do that I first had to conquer the heart of this fantastic woman. 

I walked through the house, went out into the garden - we had planned to meet in front of the cinema.

The laptop was ready.  
Emma was online.  
I started the video call.

With a beating heart and a broad smile on my face, I smiled at Emma, who appeared on my screen only a few seconds later, also sitting outside.  
She waved at me.  
I waved at her.  
We beamed and smiled at each other. 

"Hey.", I breathed. "Glad you're here already.", I winked and smiled, tilting my head slightly to the right, pursing my lips for a very soft kiss; my heart skipped a beat again as her head also tilted slightly to the right, as she pursed her lips for a gentle kiss.  
I imagined her lips on my cheek - my ears heard the slight smacking of the kiss.  
"I've been waiting for you eagerly," Emma smiled at me after the welcoming kisses. "I'm really looking forward to going to the movies with you."

My eyes darted over her face, my ears listening to her pleasant voice.

"It was an excellent idea not to watch one of the new films, but the old Hitchcock classic 'Psycho' - a great choice," she praised me for the film choice. "It's great to see it in the cinema again."  
"It was a selfish plan - that way you might be sitting anxiously on my lap after a few minutes," I winked flirtatiously and charmingly; my stomach tingling excitedly as I did so.  
Emma laughed softly, looking at me with a grin.  
"I'm not a woman who sits screeching at horror movies and clings to her date - sorry to disappoint you there, my dear." she winked charmingly, coming closer to the camera as if she were whispering something in my ear. "But maybe you can find another way to exchange some soft touches with me," her flirtatious voice entered my ear.

My heart pounded, my stomach tingled.  
I loved flirting with her because she could not only enjoy this flirting of mine flattered; she could also flirt with me very charmingly and delightfully.  
My stomach was still tingling, my heart had not settled down either.

"You’re not disappointing me with that," I breathed with a smile. "I just wanted to make you laugh," I winked. "It's great that you like my choice of film because I really like old classics too." I looked at her gently, tilting my head. "Shall we go in?"

I saw her nod, saw her smile, saw her eyes sparkle - that warm chocolate brown beaming blissfully and happily at me. 

We stood up, picked up our laptop, went inside. 

"Would you like something to eat or drink?", I asked - unnecessarily, because we had made a snack list last night and had gone shopping for it separately today.  
"I'd like to snack a bit at the movie - I can't even sit in the cinema without eating something, there'd be something missing," Emma smiled at me as we walked.  
"I feel the same way," I smiled at her.

In the kitchen, I put the laptop on the kitchen island - I knew what she would 'order'.  
"I'd like nachos with cheese and a coke.", she smiled at me as if we were waiting in line for treats.  
"Okay.", I nodded. "I like to eat that too, but I can just never get past the salty popcorn at the movies," I smiled.  
"Salty popcorn is great - I just can never resist nachos, unfortunately," she smiled at me.  
"So, you'd like a coke and nachos with cheese. With or without jalapeños?", I asked gently - already knowing the answer.  
"Exactly.", she beamed at me, standing in her kitchen as well. "And with jalapeños, please."  
I looked to her, nodding gently.

We gave each other one last smile.

I carried the laptop into the living room, set it on the couch, pointed it towards the TV - but also a little towards where I would be sitting in a few minutes.  
I went back to the kitchen, prepared the salty popcorn in my popcorn machine, heated the cheese sauce for the nachos, filled nachos into a small bowl, even poured coke into two sealable paper cups with straws.  
I filled the popcorn into the popcorn bag.  
I filled the cheese sauce into a second small bowl and garnished it with sliced jalapeños.

I carried the snacks into the living room, put the cokes on the coffee table, put the popcorn on my seat and the cheese nachos next to the laptop; I turned on the TV and the sound system.  
It was already dark in the living room due to the late evening - but a nostalgic lamp provided cosy light. 

So that the sound of the film wouldn't sound twice, we had agreed yesterday that Emma would turn off her sound. 

I sat down on the couch, closed my eyes for a moment - the film was ready, I was ready.  
My heart was beating comfortably and calmly, yet also excitedly and jittery.  
I smiled.  
It was once again an extraordinary date. 

Turning my head to the laptop, I saw Emma now taking a seat next to me.

"Thanks for taking my snacks in already," she smiled. "Luckily, the toilet wasn't that busy, we already missed the commercials." she smiled with a wink.  
I had to grin.  
"It's kind of absurd - but I like the little theatrics."  
Emma grinned at me.  
"It's absurd that we're pretending we're actually at the cinema - but I really like it too."

We grinned at each other.  
I raised my eyebrows.

"Ready?", I asked.  
"Yes.", she smiled.  
„3… 2… 1… “

At the same time, we started the film.

And when the first sound was spoken, Emma gave me a thumbs up - the synchronisation of my sound with her film was a perfect match.

Comfortably, we leaned next to each other, enjoying the film, enjoying the snacks and the coke - when we spoke, we even leaned towards each other and whispered, although we wouldn't disturb anyone at all.  
My hand kept getting lost in the nachos, but I knew her hand kept getting lost in my popcorn too - because when I turned my head towards her, I kept seeing salty popcorn disappear into her mouth.

Our heads turned to each other.  
In her hand was popcorn.  
In my hand were nachos, which I was about to dip into the cheese sauce.  
Our lips pulled into a wide grin - and suddenly we burst out laughing.

"It's almost a bit stupid.", she laughed.  
"Yeah.", I nodded - laughing panting.  
"Why did we do that?" she laughed.  
"Because that's what we arranged and agreed to yesterday," I was still laughing.  
"I can’t believe we really did that." she grinned broadly at me.  
"We can now enjoy popcorn and nachos because of it, and have plenty of coke too," I winked with a grin. 

We grinned at each other - I put my index finger to my lips, saw the corners of her mouth twitch suspiciously even further upwards.

Smirking, our heads turned to the TV again, watching Hitchcock's Psycho. 

As much as I would love to enjoy our dates up close, the appeal of these extraordinary dates was immense; I enjoyed them immensely, loved the way we both dressed up every time, trying to feel closer than we actually were.  
These extraordinary dates exuded a very special charm and, despite our distance, a great deal of warmth, closeness, fun and a romantic atmosphere.

"Boo!", I said loudly as the famous shower scene almost reached its climax. 

Laughing, I held my stomach as I saw Emma wince when I heard her startled squeal.  
She turned her head towards me, her hand was moving but I didn't see exactly what she was doing.

"I threw popcorn at you and hit the nasty cheeky bastard right on the forehead, you dumbass," Emma was laughing now. 

I looked down at myself, sure enough, there were several of the little popped kernels on my polo shirt, I had probably spilled them on myself every now and then - but now it fitted her little story very well.

I looked back at her, laughed, leaned closer.

"Don't be angry with me, sweetums. I just couldn't resist, you were completely focused on the film," I breathed softly, tilting my head to the right, giving her a soft little peck on the cheek. 

A smile spread across her face, eyes looking at me warmly - she didn't seem to resent the little naughty crime.

"Would you mind if I put my head on your shoulder?" she asked me.  
My heart did somersaults in my chest.  
"I wouldn't mind," I breathed softly. 

She smiled at me and I leaned back, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have her head on my shoulder, my arm perhaps around her shoulder, my cheek perhaps on her head. 

Again, my heart did somersaults. 

"Cosy.", I heard her breathy and whispering voice. 

When this movie was over, when I would take her home or maybe invite her out for a drink, I shouldn't forget to ask for a real date in London.  
After the popcorn and cheese nachos, after this excellent date, I really had to ask her if she would like to come to London - now that the numbers of newly infected were getting lower, now that the travel regulations had improved in our favour.

After the popcorn and cheese nachos, I would definitely invite her to London and my place.


	14. The Unnoticed Revealing Of A Secret

_**\- Saturday, July/25 - 2020, Hampshire, Rushmoor District, Aldershot -** _

Martin had spent the last week and a half with Joe and Gracie, enjoying time with his children, visiting relatives as much as it had been allowed, just making the most of what was still a very exceptional time.  
A week and a half ago, the summer holidays had begun after four weeks of school.

Now they could only make the best of the summer holidays; there was really nothing else to do.  
What would it help him to be angry or grumpy about this situation and the restrictions - it couldn't be changed at the moment, the restrictions had their purpose, and he didn't want to infect himself, his loved ones or a stranger on the street.  
What would it help him to curse this current situation, which had lasted for several months now - no one had wished for this virus and all that came with it, everyone wanted to go on with their lives normally, going to work, enjoying their free time, going to school or university, meeting friends, going to concerts or the cinema, going on holiday without restrictions - some of it would be possible at the moment, a little bit, a little bit different, just with restrictions.  
He could only make the best of the situation.

He played by the rules, limited shopping and other business visits to the bare minimum, as well as meetings with friends, colleagues and family.  
At the moment, a lot was happening online, via laptop and smartphone - something he actually didn't like that much, but now he was very grateful for these technical achievements.  
For months, he had not seen his family or visited them - only Gracie and Joe had been regular visitors.  
He had enjoyed the last week and a half all the more, during which they had visited other family members - Jamie, Benedict, Tim, nieces and nephews, cousins.  
It had been great to visit them, to hug them, to spend time with them; it had been great to enjoy a little more normality.  
They hadn't seen each other since February or even Christmas, thought it better to take it easy now, even though they visited each other much more regularly otherwise, even though some of them lived far apart.

Laura and Lamar had come to see him by car on Thursday - and today they had driven to Aldershot together with Joe and Gracie.  
Laura and he had wanted to visit their parents.

Aldershot had been a visit for some years now without warm and loving welcoming hugs. 

Martin and Laura were at the cemetery, but Joe, Gracie and Lamar had accompanied them.  
Actually, they had already visited both graves, exchanged flowers, watered flowers, spent some time with them - but they were still at Aldershot Cemetery. 

While Joe, Gracie, Lamar and Laura had stayed at Philomena's grave, Martin had walked through the cemetery again - to his father's grave.

He stood alone in front of the grave of his father, who had passed away far too many years ago, who was deeply missed by him and his siblings for far too many years now.  
He had wanted to spend some time alone with his dad and the others had let him have his time.  
Sometimes he just wanted to chat with him all by himself.

Martin stood in front of the grave, his hands in his pockets, the warm summer breeze brushing through his short grey hair.  
It was quiet, nothing was going on around here, they had chosen a good time for their visit.  
The birds were chirping, the leaves rustled softly in the warm summer wind.  
Martin was silent for a few moments, had told his father about the last week and a half, had told him once again about Joe and Gracie, which he had unfortunately never met.

"Laura's trying to set me up with a woman." he began his next little story - oblivious to the fact that four people had stopped at short distance.

Joe had heard his father's voice and words – Martins words had reached them across the quiet and empty graveyard.  
Joe had raised his hand, forcing the others to stop - on Gracie's shoulder he had placed his other hand, forcing her to stop as well.

"You're trying to set him up?" whispered Joe to Laura, who didn't reply, but looked to her brother and tilted her head. 

Martin's attention was on his father and his story.  
He ran his hand through his short hair, rubbing the back of his neck.  
He didn't know why he kept talking about his love life to his father - maybe because he had never been able to tell his father something like this in person; he had never been able to tell him that he was in love or that he had a girlfriend.

"She and Lamar met someone on holiday - Emma is her name. She's from Malta,... that's where Laura and Lamar met her. Laura was very excited about her and gave me her contact details; she said Emma would be the right one and my home. And I think she's right," he told his dad. 

Joe and Gracie stared at their aunt for a moment, then looked at each other, eyed each other briefly - neither could see in the other's pair of eyes that they had known anything about it.  
They both heard the name and this story for the very first time.  
Heads turned back to their father. 

"We've been skyping every day... since the end of March. And we've had several dates - extraordinary dates, Emma in front of her laptop, me in front of mine. She's great, she's really just amazing. She's fantastic to chat and banter with. And she likes reading as much as I do... and she also likes music a lot, we have the same taste in music and she also has a great passion for records. She even has her own record store with a café - with her brother. I would love to browse through the records with her. She really is a wonderful woman and it's great to spend time with her. She is simply stunning. No woman has ever made me laugh as much as she does. And I have never felt this comfortable with any woman before. In general, no woman has ever made me feel... like I do feel right now - she really takes my breath away. It's crazy what she's doing to me. It's just crazy,... we've only ever seen each other via a camera," he gushed and sighed. "I'm sure you would have liked her a lot - and Mum too," he told him - the words still flew to his children, to his sister and brother-in-law, who he hadn’t noticed yet. "I've invited her to come to London - she's coming in a week,... and then she's staying for a fortnight," the voice reported euphorically and with immense anticipation. 

Laura, Lamar, Joe and Gracie looked at each other - and they had to realise that they had all been unaware of the visit from Malta.

Martin ran his hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Laura absolutely hit the mark - she had the right feeling. Emma is gorgeous and smashing; she embodies exactly what I need, what I want and what I crave, what I wish for," he told his dad, wishing he could euphorically tell him exactly this in person. "I think I've fallen in love with her. Maybe I should be honest and admit that I am very much in love with her already. I miss her, near me and by my side. The skipping heart beats and the butterflies in my tummy are lovely... but I'm also kind of heartbroken because of her," he admitted. "You know, she's only 30,... and I'm afraid I'm too old for her - and my head can't stop thinking that I truly am too old for her."

Joe and Gracie looked at each other, tilted their heads.  
Jeanne had been younger too - the relationship had been a complete flop in the end.  
This new woman wasn't just 10 years younger; she was 18 years younger - but maybe this Emma was very different, maybe they wouldn’t feel the huge age difference with Emma at the side of their dad.  
They still looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, smiled at each other.  
They wouldn't worry about her age right now, they had heard their dad’s words - he was feeling extremely comfortable around her and she was giving him what he needed; that was enough for them to give this Emma from Malta a chance and hold back the worries for now.

"We flirt a lot, and I get the impression that she likes me too... but maybe that's just what I want to see. All I can say is that if she were older,... even if she were older than me, I would definitely have fallen in love with her too," he sighed. "It's a shame you won't get to meet her. I would have liked to introduce her to you properly. Maybe one day I can bring her here and introduce her to you in this extraordinary way," he said. "I hope I can introduce her to Gracie and Joe someday, too; I think they'd both like her pretty much; I think they'd both be as keen as mustard with her - and Emma with them." He said in a nasal voice. "My two sweethearts are going on a three-week-holiday with Amanda and Jonjo. I miss them already, but I'm glad they can enjoy some more holiday with Amanda - even if they don't fly away for holiday this year."

He took a deep breath, ran his hand through his hair again.

"I hope I can tell you next time I visit that I’m not lovesick and heartbroken, but that Emma is now the woman by my side."

Laura squeezed Joe’s and Gracie’s shoulder.  
"Let's wait by the exit." she smiled in a whisper.  
"Why?" asked Gracie in a whisper too.  
"Because your father wanted to talk to Grandpa. He wanted to talk to him alone - and we haven't actually heard anything about this little chat." She winked.  
She smiled at the two children.

Lamar and Laura led Joe and Gracie across the paths to the entrance and exit. 

Martin had joined them 10 minutes later, unaware that the four of them had heard him - they hadn't let him know, hadn't said anything, had let him have this secret with his father.

For the time being.

Back in London and a day later, the four of them had let something slip after all - and that was when they had said goodbye.  
Not only had Lamar and Laura said goodbye to him for the onward journey, heading to Chester to visit the eldest of their brothers, Benedict; he had also had to say goodbye to Joe and Gracie, for they had been taken back to Potters Bar by Laura and Lamar. 

Back in London and a day later, Martin had found himself in a tight hug from his children.  
They had planted a big kiss on his cheek, had smiled at him afterwards and had both whispered something in his ear - the same words, at the same time; it had sounded like they had agreed on these words, and probably they had just done exactly that.

"Have a great time without us - and enjoy it very much," they had whispered in his ear and had pressed another big kiss to his ear. "Especially the last two weeks of it," they had added after another big kiss on his ear.

The words and their smiles had made it very clear that they must have heard him.

He had looked at his sister and Lamar, who had both just smiled at him with a very special and encouraging smile on their lips.

And they too had revealed that they had heard him.

It had been clear, why else would they have had that gentle, joyful, encouraging and comfortable smile on their lips, why else would they have explicitly mentioned those two weeks. 

A smile had also crept onto his lips when he had realised that they hadn’t said anything until now, that they were still letting him have this secret, that they were letting him enjoy it.  
A smile had also crept onto his lips when he had realised that he had especially Joe's and Gracie's permission and approval to simply enjoy and love.


	15. Welcome To London

_**\- Saturday, August/01 - 2020, Longford, Heathrow Airport -** _

The baggage carousel of the Air Malta flight moved slowly - still quite empty, without a single suitcase.  
Emma was already at the baggage carousel; the check-in had taken relatively little time, although a little more than usual, as she had had to answer questions about symptoms along with a smear test, like all the other passengers. 

Excited, she stood at the baggage carousel - she was very much looking forward to seeing Martin, especially to seeing him up close; so close that she would actually be able to touch him.  
Excitedly, she stood at the conveyor belt, adjusting her dark mask.

It really was a crazy time, for several months now, and she had the impression that they all had a long way to go.  
And in this crazy and special time, she had met a quite breathtaking person in an extraordinary way.  
She would have actually skipped flying this year; she would have avoided unnecessary travelling, just enjoying her home country all year round this year.  
But then Martin had come into her life.  
It was time they met without Skype - and with the travel ban to the UK lifted, they had jumped at the chance.

Who knew if the borders wouldn’t be closed again any time soon.

She beamed at the conveyor belt, thinking of him.  
All cute and sweet, he had asked her to come to London - she could still hear the words in her ears; on the night of their cinema date, he had asked her; after the film, over a shared Gin Tonic on the balcony and terrace.  
'May I invite you to London and my place?'  
She beamed at the conveyor belt of suitcases.

She sighed.  
She missed him, she missed him, yet this was her first visit, today they would actually meet for the first time.  
Her heart raced joyfully and enamoured as she thought of him. 

The first suitcases made their way along the conveyor belt to their owners.

Her stomach tingled lovestruck.  
She had already admitted to herself that she had fallen in love - had not been able to stop falling in love at all.  
And if it weren't for the insecurity and the worries about whether he may think she was too young, she could enjoy being in love without a little heartache. 

Her heart, her stomach and also her head couldn’t find an agreement - they spoke two languages.  
There was the great hope that Martin didn't care about the age difference, that he was actually giving her signs via his flirting, via his gestures and his words, via his smiles and beams and all the skyping and texting and via the dates, that he also liked her very much, that there was so much more for him too.  
There was a great disbelief that her hope would come true. She was very worried that Martin was flirting and enjoying the dates, but that he only liked her very much as a friend and that the 18-year age difference was just too much for him to actually want a serious relationship. 

However, the little heartbreak did not dampen her joy for Martin - she would enjoy these two weeks here, with him close by; she would enjoy all that he could give her and wanted to give her.  
She didn't want to mope, she wasn't the type for that, and she was wearing the rose-coloured glasses far too tight.  
The euphoria and infatuation steadily pushed the little heartbreak aside. 

She followed the suitcases on their journey.  
The brown eyes shone.  
Impatience was far from her mind, but now she stood impatiently in front of the baggage conveyor belt.  
She rocked back and forth on her feet, staring at the outlet on the luggage belt as if she could summon her suitcase. 

It had worked - her suitcase came closer, and closer, and closer.

She took a step forward, grabbed the suitcase, pulled out the handle and made her way to the exit with hurried and elated steps.  
Let's get out of the airport. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With drumming fingers, Martin sat behind the wheel of his car.  
He drummed impatiently on the steering wheel. 

Last night they had skyped for the last time - and they had agreed that he would wait in the car.  
Heathrow was big, travelling allowed again, lots of people on the move.  
He'd suggested it, asked her if it would be okay if he waited in the car in the car park, and she'd agreed, had told him he didn't need to come into the presumably nevertheless packed airport to meet her in the terminal.

When he had arrived, he had texted her via WhatsApp, had texted her where he had parked.  
He had arrived exactly on time with the landing plane at 10:25am - and he had been waiting ever since. 

He was excited, agitated and nervous, but also euphoric and in high spirits.  
He was looking forward to seeing Emma, had hardly been able to sleep all night with joyful excitement.  
Finally, he would be able to see her up close and personal - there would be no laptop, no camera, no 2000 kilometres of distance between them. 

His heart did somersaults. 

For a brief moment he felt bad - he hadn't even been that happy when he had picked up Jeanne from the airport. He had also picked up Amanda a few times, feeling anticipation and euphoria as he had with Jeanne, but no somersaulting heart, no pudding-soft knees, no belly filled with dancing butterflies. 

The guilty conscience disappeared in a flash - it was pushed aside by his somersaulting heart.  
Infatuation sparkled in his eyes; the blue glowed with anticipation, sparkling like the sea he had seen in the background in numerous Skype meetings. 

His heart stopped for a moment as he thought of the greeting with Emma - there would be a touch, a touch after four and a half months.  
A touch that he longed for, that he could hardly wait for, that had taken a long time, but that he also looked forward to with awe.  
His heart stopped again - how would she feel, how would she smell, how would she sound without the distance and Skype, how would she look right in front of his eyes. 

Hopefully, he wouldn't have to wait too long for her, because he could hardly stand the impatience.  
It was awful to know that after her visit he wouldn't be able to just visit her easily and all the time he wanted to; and who knew if there wouldn't suddenly be travel restrictions again - Malta wasn't a risky area, but Britain hadn't got off lightly so far; other countries were constantly imposing entry bans for UK citizens and lots of countries were having travel bans to the UK.  
He closed his eyes and shook his head - he was thinking too much again.

He picked up his phone, unlocked it, went through the pictures, found a picture Emma had sent him - he had sent her a similar one too.  
It was a selfie - a joint selfie.  
Emma was in the foreground, beaming at the camera, while he was in the background on the Skype screen, also beaming - an extraordinary selfie.  
Emma had a similar selfie of them; he had sent it to her, the same day, the same evening; he in the foreground, beaming at the camera; she in the background on the Skype screen, showing a radiant smile.

The selfie made him beam, made his heart race several beats faster. 

Martin winced - there had been a knock on the window.

He lifted his head, looked to the passenger window, could see the beaming face of Emma, the mask dangling from one ear.  
His eyes began to sparkle, his lips pulled into a euphoric glow.  
He got out of the car, beaming over the roof of the car.

Together they walked to the boot, met in front of it, looked at each other smiling and beaming, both showing sparkling eyes as they beamed. 

Emma took off her mask, put it in her trouser pocket, took another step towards him.  
Martin let his eyes dart over her appearance, also took another step towards her.  
Emma lowered the hand luggage bag to the floor.  
Martin took another step towards her.

At the same time, they opened their arms.

They took each other in their arms, hugging the other one warmly.  
Martin gently stroked Emma's back and could also feel her hands stroking his back.  
They embraced each other exuberantly happy and overwhelmed. 

Martin leaned back slightly, put his hands on her upper arms, beamed at her - if it was at all possible, she looked even prettier this close to him.  
"Hello Emma." the nasal voice beamed.  
"Hello Martin." the feminine and warm voice beamed.  
Martin smiled, still feeling his rapidly beating heart and his strongly tingling stomach - her voice sounded even better so close to him.

Her voice was familiar, her looks too - her smell and the feel of her body was new.  
Fantastic she had felt in his arms, as if she belonged right there.  
She had smelled unbelievably good when he had inhaled deeply during the hug.  
He was overwhelmed that she was now standing in front of him. 

Emma gently stroked his upper arm, hardly able to believe that she was now standing in front of him after all these months, after all their Skype meetings, after these dates and the long wait.  
The voice sounded incredibly familiar to her ears and yet even more beautiful and melodious than via Skype.  
His face was also very familiar to her eyes, and above all very attractive, but standing so close to him now made her eyes shine even more - she liked his looks very much; he was really a very handsome man.  
His smell, which she had noticed during the embrace, was still new, but he smelled fantastic - both his very own smell and the perfume she had noticed.  
Feeling and sensing his body was also new, but the embrace had felt breathtaking; feeling him had felt incredibly good; and she had felt very comfortable in his embrace.

It was an overwhelming feeling for both of them to be much closer now than they had been for the past four and a half months.

Martin gave her one last euphoric look, then loaded her suitcase and bag into the boot.  
The boot closed, Martin put his hand on her upper arm.

"Let's go.", he smiled.  
"Yes.", Emma nodded with a smile, giving him another look that expressed pure joy.

They walked to the front of the car, looking at each other over the roof of the dark car, giving each other soft looks and loving, overwhelmed smiles.  
They both got into the car, closed the car door, turned their heads towards each other.

They could clearly perceive that the other was also overwhelmed, that the other was also very happy about this visit; that the other was excited about the upcoming time they were about to spend together. 

Martin's smile became more charming, yet also cheekier, the mischievousness suddenly sparkling in his eyes as well.  
"It's a shame we won't be skyping today," the voice flirted with a cheeky and amused undertone.  
Emma glanced at him, smirked, grinned, laughed heartily - and she liked that he was cheeky and up to mischief.  
"Well, I can go to your guest room and then skype with you via my smartphone," she flirted with a grin.  
Martin smirked, grinned, laughed heartily too - and then shook his head and patted Emma's thigh tenderly.  
"Forget it! You're not going anywhere. I don't want to see or hear Skype for the next two weeks," he smirked. And then her raised his hand, tapped his nose and let his finger wander to her nose, but he didn't nudge her nose – his heart had stopped, nervous and shy, overwhelmed and lovestruck. "I like this closeness much better, especially since there's no annoying barrier between us right now," he breathed flirtatiously.  
Emma's heart skipped a beat - and since Martin's finger was still very close to her nose, she just leaned forward a tiny bit as she spoke, now feeling the finger nudging her nose.  
"I like this closeness much better too - without being anything between us," she flirted.  
Martin looked at her, swallowed, smiled softly; only slowly did he lower his finger.

They smiled at each other, kept silent - it was pleasant, they felt comfortable, it was nice to be together and to feel each other's presence very clearly.

Smiling, their heads turned away from each other.

Martin started the engine of the car.  
Emma furtively glanced over at him.

The black car left the airport area.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For 42 minutes Martin had driven the car through the streets of outer London.  
4 minutes they had been silent, trying to calm their hearts and butterflies.  
38 minutes they had chatted, laughed, bantered, fretted and listened to the music.

42 minutes it had taken to get to Hampstead.  
4 minutes they had been silent, but even after that, hearts and butterflies had been wild and enamoured.  
38 minutes they had let each other feel that they were very much in harmony not only during their Skype meetings and dates.

The black car had been on the road for 42 minutes.  
4 minutes had not been enough to calm down from being overwhelmed, not even a tiny little bit - and actually that was quite a very lovely feeling.  
38 minutes they had enjoyed each other, not only laughing, chatting, bantering and being cheeky, but also singing along while listening to music - it had just happened, it hadn't felt weird, it had been fun; due to their joint sing along it had felt like there was even more trust, security and comfort between them than they had noticed.

Martin put Emma’s bag on the floor in the entrance hall of the house, put the suitcase there too.

He turned to Emma, opened his arms again.  
"Come here again." he breathed.  
He didn't have to wait long for the longed-for embrace, Emma was immediately coming closer, literally letting herself fall into his warm hug.

Warmly he put his arms around her, embracing her with warmth and gentleness.  
He held her tightly, pressed her against his body, gently rubbed her back.  
His lips breathed a little kiss on her cheek.  
"It's good to have you here, Emma."  
"Thank you for inviting me," Emma breathed. "It's nice to be with you now."  
She had her arms wrapped around his neck, snuggling into his embrace.  
His little kiss had made her heart stop, but when she too placed a little kiss on Martin's cheek, it made his heart stop too. 

Unobtrusively, they nosed each other, drawing in each other's scent, letting the scent become more familiar. 

They held each other, rubbed each other's back again and again - it was still overwhelming to actually be able to touch each other.  
It was a real and bodily embrace, not just a nudge of an image. 

They stood in the entrance hall of the house holding each other longingly, giving vent to their overwhelming feelings.  
No words were needed.  
Their cheeks touched.  
They felt each other's smile.

Emma smiled into Martin's embrace - the embrace and his body felt warm, exuding safety and security.

Martin smiled into Emma's embrace - the embrace felt warm, her body like it was made for his; he felt comfortable and protected.

"Welcome to London."


	16. The First Repetition

_**\- Sunday, August/02 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Warm air of the hairdryer was whooshing through Emma's hair.  
She stood cheerful in the bathroom on the first floor, standing in front of the mirror with wet hair.  
The large fluffy towel Martin had giving her was wrapped around her naked body. 

The first morning.  
The first morning after a really good night.

She had slept fantastically well.  
The bed in the guest room had been extremely comfortable, the soft bed linen had caressed her body and Martin's gentle goodnight saying had done the rest.  
She had really slept like a baby. 

The rest of yesterday had been fantastic.  
It had been a wonderful feeling to finally see Martin without a distracting laptop or smartphone.  
No distance, no detachment, nothing between them.  
She had been able to be close to him, she had been able to see him, she had been able to smell him, she had been able to hear him, she had been able to feel him. 

Her heart raced fast against her chest - he could give quite fantastic hugs. 

With extraordinary hospitality, warmth and cordiality he had welcomed her and pampered her yesterday afternoon and evening.  
He was, after all, a much greater gentleman than one would suspect, than he himself would probably admit.  
So far he had danced attendance on her, looked after her fantastically, had even cooked for her last night - there was care, respect, there was naturalness and sincerity, openness and warm-heartedness.  
He really had a big heart which was not only big but in the right place too - and she had the impression that he was often misjudged in his whole being and personality. 

Warm air rushed through her wet hair.  
She beamed into the mirror. 

Before going to bed, he had asked her out on a date while saying goodnight.  
His voice still resonated in her ears - soft and calm, charming and flirty, warm and nasal.  
'May I take you out for breakfast in the morning? I'd love to repeat our lovely breakfast date without Skype.'  
A simple question, and yet it had touched her heart deeply.

Her heart pounded harder against her ribcage again - rekindling this date was a lovely idea.

Martin was already showered, was also already dressed, had also dressed appropriately for this date.  
A black and neat polo shirt, well-fitting jeans, matching shoes, a matching watch - he had styled his short hair a little, used perfume, and had also groomed his three-day beard again.

He was standing on the terrace, just setting the breakfast table for the date with Emma.

The butterflies could hardly calm down since getting up.  
A real date at last.  
Together, with each other, very close, without distracting electronics.  
He had enjoyed the extraordinary dates via Skype more than he could express with words, and yet a date in person was much lovelier, much closer, much more intimate.  
Today he would not only be able to touch her with words, today he would be able to touch her physically.  
Today he didn't have to imagine that she was sitting with him in the garden at the breakfast table, today she was actually and truly sitting with him at the breakfast table in the garden.

His heart pounded wildly against his ribcage.

The painting that hung in the living room by Emma, simply belonged here - he had hung it up and it had immediately filled this house with warmth, with personality and charm; it was impossible to imagine life without it.  
Emma herself actually gave him the same feeling - she had immediately filled this house with warmth, personality and charm yesterday; it was as if she belonged here, as if she had always been here.

The heart stopped, then skipped beat after beat.

There was a sense of naturalness that he had felt immediately with her in the house yesterday; not for a second had it been alienating in any way to know she was in the house, to let her arrive, to pamper and cook for her, to lounge with her on the couch or giving her a gentle goodnight saying. 

This house gained in beauty and cosiness not only with her painting but with her too. 

In his thoughts he often prayed that he was not too old for her, that it was not just friendly flirtation and fun for her.  
In his thoughts he cherished the great hope that she had fallen in love with him too.  
In his thoughts, he was told quite clearly that he did not believe he was that lucky, that he was not too old for her. 

In his twisted thoughts, which he often could not turn off, he saw himself with a terribly broken heart, turning his back on the world for a while. 

For the moment, the thoughts left him alone; for the moment, the heart and the belly were the dominate ones; for the moment, the two of them had sent his twisted thoughts on holiday. 

He had enjoyed the rest of yesterday very much.  
During the night he had slept better than he had in a long time.  
This morning he had got up full of energy. 

He lovingly set the table and prepared everything for their 'first' date. 

Barely 15 minutes later, Martin was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up radiantly at Emma, who was descending the stairs with a warm smile.  
She wore her hair in a braid, wore natural make-up, wearing a knee-length floral summer dress. 

"Good morning.", Martin greeted her in a warm voice as she arrived at the foot of the stairs.  
He let his eyes dart over her appearance, smiled warmly and gently, leaned closer and breathed a delicate kiss on her cheek. 

"Good morning.", Emma breathed with a fast-beating heart - his looks always flattered her, and she had to say, she liked his outfit a lot too. She enjoyed the tender kiss, also breathed a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

Smiling, Martin took a step back, offering her his arm to hook - and Emma gladly accepted the offer.

"Is the café far away?" she asked, even though she knew exactly where he was taking her.  
"No, it's just around the corner," he smiled.  
"I'm really looking forward to our breakfast."  
"Me too."

Martin led her through the entrance hall, led her through the living room, led her out into the garden - and Emma was following close by his side.

Her hand rested on his arm; she tilted her head, beamed at the breakfast table.

Buns, croissants and toast.  
A carafe of orange juice, a pot of tea, a pot of coffee, a carafe of water.  
Cheese, spread, jams, Nutella.  
Fresh cut fruits.  
Milk and muesli. 

The table had been lovingly set - with beautiful crockery and cutlery, with identical looking cups and glasses; the buns, croissants and toasts were in a beautiful basket; the cheese had been arranged on a plate; the spreads, jams and Nutella had been put into similar looking bowls; the sliced fruit was a mouth-watering fruit salad; the milk had been put into a small jug, the cereal was in a transparent tin on the table.

"Wow." she breathed, touched. "This looks great, Martin." She turned her head to him, beaming at him.

Martin smiled, lowered his arm, led her to the table, even adjusted the chair for her to sit comfortably - for her he had gladly gone to the trouble of turning this table into a little breakfast oasis. 

"Thank you." he smiled as she sat down, and in the process he moved the chair closer to the table.

He let his hand brush gently over her shoulder - it was a delicate, flirtatious yet not too intrusive touch. 

Martin circled the table, sat down opposite her - her radiance infecting him.

Sea blue shone into chocolate brown.  
Chocolate brown radiated into sea blue. 

"What would you like to drink?" he asked, caring.  
There he was again the caring charming gentleman - but Emma liked his manner, because he was not too pushy, did not overdo it; there was no fake, it was just his way to be, he was just himself, very authentic and natural.  
"I'd like some orange juice and some tea," she smiled across the table. 

Martin reached across the table and grabbed her glass and the carafe of orange juice.

"I must compliment you," Emma smiled. "You're a very charming man, and you really know how to be a gentleman. You're just yourself; you're not faking anything, you're absolutely sincere in your actions and behaviour - all the while being very charming and an incredibly caring gentleman. It's lovely that you're just you."

Martin handed her the orange juice, then took her cup. He tilted his head, looked at her, rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

"You know me very well by now - and you know that I'm also very humble, even if I sometimes give the impression with my patter and my jokes that I have big self-confidence, that I'm cocksure of myself and that I'm an arrogant snob," he smirked at the end. "You know I don't have the biggest self-confidence, I'm not cocksure of myself and that I'm anything but arrogant - so thank you for those kind honest words and the lovely compliments."

He poured tea into her cup, placed the cup next to the glass of orange juice and winked gently. 

"I loved giving you those words," Emma smiled. "Thank you for this amazing breakfast, Martin. It's great to relive this date with you, this time only in your garden.", she breathed.  
"Yes. It's fantastic," he smiled. "And there can't be anything better in the world than going on a date with me," he smirked.  
Emma grinned.  
"Yes, there is... having a date with me." she replied glibly.

Martin laughed, spilling the water he poured into his glass.

"Shit." he muttered with a laugh - glass and carafe still in his hand.

Emma grinned - seeing and hearing him laugh face to face was even more enjoyable, and it was giving her even more butterflies and lovestruck feelings than via Skype.

"Do you want me to help you clean that away?" she grinned. "I'll be happy to wipe the puddle away." she flirted, guessing that the water stain was on his crotch.  
Martin laughed, grinned, smirked, then looked charmingly at her.  
"This is breakfast, not dessert, Miss De Laurentiis," he also flirted.

They looked at each other, gazed deeply into each other's eyes – it crackled romantically. 

Emma played at her earlobe but licked her lower lip - his flirting was first class.  
Martin rubbed his neck, but he also licked his lower lip - he loved flirting with her, loved it when she flirted with him.

They both bit their lower lip briefly.

Ocean blue looked into nougat brown.  
Nougat brown looked into ocean blue.

A smile settled on their face, that quickly curled around their lips - they beamed at each other.

"Enjoy it," Martin smiled.  
"You too," Emma breathed.

Together they reached for the basket, together they reached towards the croissants - their fingers touching, gently brushing over each other.  
They paused for a moment.

Their hearts beat in the same fast beat.  
The butterflies danced the same wild dance.  
Their hands tingled.  
Warmth rushed through their bodies.

Incomprehension was thrown to the head by the heart and stomach, but Emma and Martin did not notice.  
The heart and stomach accused the head of stupidity.

Neither Martin's heart and stomach nor Emma's heart and stomach could understand why the head did not believe that the other thought the age was absolutely irrelevant.  
Heart and belly could not understand why the head could not fully see the beautiful truth, even though it was so clearly in front of it.  
There were clear signals, there was a steady intense romantic crackling, there was clear infatuation - on both sides.  
Heart and belly had understood long ago, but the head was still worrying about something that didn't matter at all to the heart and belly.  
Neither Martin's heart and stomach nor Emma's heart and stomach were worried about a number called 30 and a number called 48 - they were just on cloud nine.

Martin took one of the croissants, handed it to Emma, even apologised in typical British fashion.  
"Sorry."  
Emma accepted the croissant, then had to grin.  
"You British guys and your politeness."  
"You just can't beat the sorry out of us," Martin now grinned too.  
He took the other croissant, winked at her, still smirking with her.

"Speaking of politeness... did you sleep well?" he asked, interested and polite.  
"I slept splendidly," Emma said as she used the little spoon to put some jam on her plate.  
"If you need anything else, just let me know," Martin smiled before biting into the bare croissant.  
"It's all there, Martin. Really. I'm well looked after in your guest room and by you."

She picked up the teacup, sipped the hot drink carefully - she was feeling puddly.  
Spreading some jam on a corner of the croissant, she bit into it with relish, her eyes beaming at Martin, who was sitting comfortably in his chair with smiling eyes, chewing as well. 

She really had to ask him out on a date tomorrow. 

Martin smiled after swallowing, took the water glass, sipped it.  
He felt good; elated and balanced, relaxed and very content inside.  
He felt comfort and cosiness inside.  
His sister had really made quite an exceptionally valuable discovery with her souvenir. 

He really had to ask Emma out again in the next few days.  
He really wanted to repeat their Skype dates right here in London.

They had made a start this morning.  
It was the first repetition of a very nice date they had enjoyed via Skype.


	17. A Flirt Under The Sun

_**\- Monday, August/03 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

The August sun was shining above London.  
It shone into the large flowering garden - it was shining into the garden since the early morning.

A smile lay on Martin's face, his eyes were closed behind his sunglasses.  
He had enjoyed yesterday as well as the repetition of the breakfast date.  
Yesterday had started off beautifully, the breakfast date had been really fantastic and had made him feel the most beautiful feelings in the world.  
He had thoroughly enjoyed the date with Emma, savouring every minute of it, focusing entirely on Emma and the date – switching off the world around him.  
The rest of the day had been just as fantastic as the date in the morning.

Time with Emma.  
Time just for her.  
Time to get to know her even better.  
Time he hadn't had to spend in front of the computer, laptop or smartphone with her.

His heart pounded lovestruck and enamoured.  
Should he take the next step?  
He would have to risk it, would he want to get any further, would he want to find out if there were more than just friendly feelings for Emma too.  
And yet there was the fear that hope would prove as unfulfillable.  
Maybe he should enjoy the flirting, the closeness and being in love for a little while longer before getting dumped by Emma.  
His body was tingling.

It was a nagging topic - his head just couldn't give it a rest.  
He didn't really have a problem with his own age and yet he felt the extreme desire to be younger right now just so he could show his head the middle finger.  
But he knew himself well enough to know that his 30-year-old self would not help him to turn off his head and the confused, insecure thoughts.  
When he saw his 30-year-old self in front of him, he heard the thoughts in his head telling him that even 18 years ago he wouldn't have believed he had a real chance with a woman like Emma.  
A tiresome subject - that head that just wouldn't give it a rest.

He opened his eyes, turned his head, looked at Emma, whose eyes were closed, whose profile he saw.  
His heart pounded lovestruck against his ribcage.  
The butterflies danced.  
The body tingled.  
Should his hope trump his belief, then...  
The heart pounded hard, stopped, skipped beat after beat, raced as fast as a jetliner.  
God, if he could call this woman his girlfriend, it would be more than the ultimate jackpot - just the thought of his hope for a happy ending trumping his belief in no happy ending made his heart pound and stop, skipping beats and racing as fast as a jetliner; so fast that he could hear the heartbeat rushing wildly in his ears; his heart was taking his breath away.

Emma's eyes were closed, she sensed that Martin was looking at her, that he was examining her, that he was watching her.  
Her body tingled, the butterflies in her stomach were busy, her heart raced wildly in her chest.  
It was an exciting yet very comforting feeling that was triggered in her by Martin's examining gaze.  
Often he triggered two completely opposite feelings in her.  
Positive feelings.  
She felt excited and yet relaxed with him.  
There was complete peace in her when she spent time with him and at the same time she felt completely energetic and jittery, like she was on top of the world.  
At the moment she felt comfortable and at ease, cheery and intoxicated with love, secure and lovestruck.

A pleasant tingling rushed through her body - not only because Martin was watching her, but also because she had thought back to yesterday.  
She had liked the date very much, she had liked the rest of the day very much - Martin had been obliging, attentive and charming, had flirted with her like a cheeky devil and a charming British gentleman, had made her laugh again and again until her stomach had hurt; she had had the feeling that he had concentrated completely on her, that he had switched off everything else around him, that only she had mattered; he had hung on her every word, had proved once again that he was a fantastic listener but also storyteller, and that he had quite obviously perfected flirting.  
Goosebumps spread all over her body.  
She felt his lips against her cheek, very soft, breathy, very innocent and sweet.  
It was a memory, not a touch she was actually feeling; it was the memory of the little kiss he had given her after saying goodnight.

When she had accepted the Skype video call in March, she had not planned to fall in love with the caller - but when did one plan to fall in love?  
The insecurity still sat deep in her mind - that Martin was thinking she was too young, although he was actually sending enough signals that this was not a problem for him at all; but her head did not want to realise the beautiful truth.  
Her head was still telling her to just enjoy whatever it was for Martin - whether just friendship, whether a bit of flirting, whether he just wanted to have a bit of fun with her.  
Her stomach and heart told her that he wanted friendship, that he wanted flirtation, that he wanted to have fun with her, that he wanted all that and so much more - that he wanted and needed friendship as the foundation of a relationship, that he wanted to enjoy romantic flirtation in a serious relationship, that he wanted fun and vitality in that relationship, that he wanted sincere romance and love with her.  
She would enjoy for now - everything Martin gave her before the dream possibly ended in a rejection, broken heart and lovesickness.

She opened her eyes, turned her head to Martin.

Together they lay in half-shade on the lush green meadow - or rather they lay on a spread picnic blanket.  
Another date - a date to which Emma had invited the owner of the house.

A smile spread across their faces.

Martin turned on his side, propped himself up on his elbow and forearm, propped his head on the palm of his hand.  
He smiled at Emma, who also turned on her side, who sat up, who made herself comfortable cross-legged on the blanket.

The picnic consisted of fresh fruit and vegetables, delicious sandwiches, dips, fresh lemonade and water.  
Martin had set up a parasol nearby because the sun was blazing into the garden.

Wearing short beige trousers and a light blue shirt, Martin lay on the blanket.  
Wearing hot pants and a white T-shirt, Emma sat cross-legged on the blanket.

Martin took one of the forks, pricked a piece of watermelon with it, guided the fork in Emma's direction.  
The arm reached up, the hand guided the fork safely to Emma's mouth, who leaned down a little towards him.  
He fed her, winking charmingly as he lowered the fork again.  
Emma closed her eyes in pleasure, liking the cool refreshment, liking the feeding and his flirting - none of her previous partners had treated her as lovingly and respectfully as Martin.  
One more reason why she was very attracted to the almost 49-year-old.

Martin pricked a piece of pineapple and brought it to his mouth with the same fork, enjoying the cool refreshment himself, for the heatwave that was about to start mercilessly in the next day, it already had London in its full grip.

"Luckily, the London weather is showing its good side," Martin smiled. "Otherwise, the woman from Malta might have been freezing," he winked flirtatiously.  
Emma grinned, reached out to him, tapped him on the forehead, then gently tousled his grey hair - she really had a thing for them.  
"I'm used to warm and mild weather all year round, but I wouldn't have frozen to death if the London weather had shown its bad side," she smirked. "The man from England could have warmed me, after all," she winked flirtatiously.  
Martin grinned, then wiggled his eyebrows, looking up at her with tousled grey hair. His fingertips brushed flirtatiously over her bare shin.  
"Now I'm disappointed it's 32 degrees plus and not minus," the voice murmured warmly, flirtatiously.

He had pulled his fingers back, but he could see the goosebumps very clearly and also the still pleasuring expression on Emma's face as she played at her earlobe at the same time.  
Emma lowered her hand again, licked her lips, changed her position again, lay on her stomach, propped herself up on her forearms, looked directly into Martin's face.

"Me too... " she breathed purring, looking him straight in the eyes.

Martin had the feeling that his mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed hard, licked his lips as well, hold her intensely flirtatious gaze, which made his heart skip a beat.  
He loved to watch what his flirting was doing to her, and he loved to feel what her flirting was doing to him.  
He loved her flirting, he loved the way she flirted - it was incredibly versatile.  
Sometimes she flirted casually so that he hardly noticed it, sometimes she flirted bantering, sometimes she flirted while being naughty and cheeky, sometimes she flirted shyly, sometimes she flirted innocently, sometimes she flirted intensely so that it took his breath away.  
He licked his lips again, still gazing into her brown eyes.

His sister, more likely all his siblings, would probably have pushed him in Emma's direction with their hand on the back of his head until his lips were on Emma's - but he didn't dare.  
In fact, he didn't dare to stretch his head forward a little, close his eyes and kiss those delicate full lips tenderly and sweetly.

There was insecurity again, there was fear again.  
His belief was sending uncertainty about Emma's feelings into his head.  
Hope was sending fear throughout his body - he was afraid of blowing his chance with Emma due to rashness or the wrong timing.

What was this young beautiful woman doing to him?  
What was she just doing to him?  
How had she managed to cast such a spell on him, to enchant him that much?  
How had she stolen his entire heart in no time at all?  
What was she just doing to him?  
What was this young beautiful woman doing to him?

The pairs of eyes spoke a very clear language as they gazed deeply into each other; but the heads, of the two, in complete infatuation, did not want to recognise the beautiful truth and acknowledge it without uncertainty.

The kiss remained unkissed.  
The eye contact remained.

A soft and warm smile spread across their faces - a smile that grew bigger and bigger; a smile that grew warmer and warmer; a smile that grew gentler and gentler.

Martin was still supporting his head with his hand.  
He let his other hand wander to her forearms, on which she rested.  
His fingertips gently stroked the naked soft and smooth skin.  
Delicately, the fingertips caressed from the tip of her left index finger, over her hand, across her wrist, across her forearm.  
Goosebumps he felt under his fingertips.  
Pleasure he saw in her brown eyes.  
Delicately, the fingertips caressed across the forearm, tickling her very gently and innocently; delicately, the fingertips caressed across the wrist, over the fingers.  
He let his fingers intertwine with hers - very slowly and very tenderly.

Hand in hand, they looked at each other.  
They smiled, their eyes shining.

Chocolate brown looked deep into sea blue.  
Sea blue gazed deeply into chocolate brown.

They enjoyed the touch - did not release it or the intense eye contact.

For the moment, the delicious picnic treats were forgotten again, but nonetheless they enjoyed their picnic date together in the garden with a very comforting and amorous feeling.

They were to enjoy their picnic all afternoon.  
All afternoon they were to flirt.  
The whole afternoon gentle and tender kisses failed to appear.  
The whole afternoon should be filled with other tender touches and innocent flirting.


	18. Until They Throw Us Out

_**\- Tuesday, August/04 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Blue eyes examined the table in the garden - checking, nervously, several times.

A white tablecloth.  
Two red candles.  
Two water glasses.  
Two red wine glasses.  
Two white wine glasses.  
Knives, forks, spoons.  
Two nice heavy napkins  
One bottle of red wine.  
One bottle of white wine.  
A carafe of water.

The blue eyes checked every little detail.

The tablecloth was straight; the candles were deliberately not yet burning; the glasses were correctly arranged, but also deliberately not yet filled; the knifes, forks and spoons were also in the right position; the two napkins were neatly folded, had been positioned where the plates would later be; the wine bottles, as well as the carafe, were standing on the table too.

He had picked the good glasses, as well as matching cutlery; in the kitchen were the matching plates and small bowls – it was the exquisite crockery.  
The wine was also exquisite, chosen from his bar to match tonight's dinner. 

The music!  
He hadn't turned on the music yet.

The table was perfect, only the music was missing. 

He went into the house, had thought for a long time whether it would be nicer to eat inside, because it was still very warm outside, but after much deliberation while cooking, he had decided to have the dinner date in the garden - the summer and the flowering garden simply gave off a more romantic atmosphere. 

He turned on the stereo equipment, switched to the calm and pleasant soul and jazz music, set the stereo so that only the speakers in the garden resound the calm and pleasant music. 

He put the remote control aside, raised his hand, looked at his watch.  
Ten minutes to go.  
He took a deep breath - everything was as he wanted it to be.

The music was perfect; the table in the garden was set; the lasagne was ready for the oven, the starters were ready in the fridge, as was the dessert; the kitchen was all clean again.  
And he too was dressed and ready for the dinner with Emma - the black suit shoes stuck on his feet; the tailored black suit trousers fitted perfectly, and also gave him enough air to breathe again, now that he was actually doing some exercise again and was no longer snacking constantly; the tailored white shirt flattered his torso, showing an almost flat stomach again; the dark knitted tie was sitting perfectly; the watch matched the outfit.  
All he had to do was put on his black jacket, which had a colourful matching pocket square that added a nice touch of colour.

Martin went into the entrance hall, where he wanted to check his tie again in the floor-level mirror.

He stepped into the entrance hall, stepped in front of the mirror - his eyes grew wide, his hands immediately grabbed his back.  
He was still wearing the apron!  
He untangled the knot, pulled the apron over his head, went to the kitchen and shook his head at himself.

Back in the entrance hall, he readjusted his tie, stroked his styled grey hair again, ran his hand over his freshly shaved cheeks.

In his ears he heard Emma's voice - Emma's words, her answer to his question last night.  
"I'd love to have a second date with you in this lovely Italian restaurant."  
He smiled into the mirror - he had asked her if she would be up for a dinner date at the Italian restaurant, had wanted to know if he could take her to the same restaurant again, or if he would have to choose another one because of the clothes she took with her. 

He couldn't wait to see her - apparently she had an elegant dress or something similar with her.  
He loved her style very much, and she would probably look gobsmacking beautiful again.

While he had cooked, while he had prepared the dinner, he had given Emma the opportunity to relax and to get ready for the date. 

Restaurants actually were open at the moment, but he just wanted to enjoy a date here at home, with her all to himself - just her and him, just the two of them; all cosy, all intimate. 

Five more minutes. 

He stroked across the tie again, then put on his jacket, stroked across it too, adjusted the pocket square again - he closed a button of the jacket. 

Martin turned around, climbed the stairs - he didn't want to keep his date waiting; he'd rather be a few minutes early than even a second late.  
He climbed the stairs to the first floor, walked across the corridor, went to the guest room Emma was currently occupying.  
He took a deep breath, tried to calm his heart, ran his hand through his hair again, straightened it with his fingers. 

He knocked on the door of the guest room.

He could hear her footsteps - his excitement rose; he bobbed once on his toes and back.  
The door opened.

Emma stood smiling in the doorway.  
Her hair was styled, her brown eyes elegantly highlighted, her lips glowing in an elegant and seductive red.  
A dress flattered her slender and fit body - black and long; thin straps and an elegant neckline that revealed a very delicate, yet very appealing hint of her breasts; it accentuated her figure, then fell loosely and elegantly down her slender legs; a slit that reached the thigh would most certainly give a great view of bare skin as she walked.  
She wore silver earrings, a beautiful silver necklace and matching bracelet - and high heels that matched the outfit.  
She looked elegant and seductive - in a perfect mix; there was an incredible amount of elegance and a seductive touch that left a lot of room for imagination, but made your mouth dry all the same, made you feel the heat rose. 

Martin swallowed, licked his lips. 

He took a step towards her, put his hand on her back - only to feel that the dress was cut very low at the back.  
He swallowed again, his mouth got drier, the heat rose more and more inside him - his hand, his naked hand was lying on her bare back, was lying on her tender skin.  
The palm of his hand tingled.  
Heart beating fast, he leaned closer.  
He breathed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Hello Emma." the nasal voice breathed - he had to compose himself; an undertaking that was not easy with such a woman in front of him, with such a perfume and such delicate skin.

On his cheek he felt a kiss as well - very tender and soft he felt it on his cheek.  
He couldn't guess that Emma's mouth was also very dry, that the heat was rising in her too, that she was enjoying his perfume and his bare hand on her naked back.

Slowly, Martin took another step back - his fingers stroked very gently over Emma's naked back as he lifted his hand; he had not been able to resist.  
But now it wasn't just his hand that was tingling, thanks to her kiss, the skin on his cheek was now tingling too, as were his own lips. 

"You... ", he began, searching for the right words as she literally just took his breath away. "You look stunning." he breathed his compliment.  
Emma smiled flattered, her brown eyes glowing.  
"Thank you!" she beamed at him. "I can really only return that compliment, Mr. Handsome." she breathed, letting her eyes flit over his appearance again, but this time very obviously.

Martin recognised the flirtatious look she was giving him, which showed him quite clearly that she liked the suit on him very much.  
Warmth and heat spread through his body; a tingling sensation rushed through his whole body - none of his girlfriends or dates had ever flirted with him while giving him such looks.  
It took all his self-control to resist the pleasant shiver, for a very special shiver just ran down his spine.

"Thank you Emma!" he smiled softly.

Emma beamed at him - her mouth still dry.  
She linked arms with Martin, letting him lead her through the hallway and down the stairs.  
The looks he had given her had been extraordinary - she had been able to see in his eyes that he liked what he saw; there had been a blaze, a fire, a flirtation; there had been seduction; but there had also been appropriate reservation, a great deal of respect and innocent gentleness.

She let Martin lead her through the house, let him lead her into the garden and onto the terrace - beaming as she saw the beautifully set table, as she heard the pleasant jazz music in her ears. 

"Wow.", she breathed.

She let Martin lead her to the table - obligingly, he even adjusted her chair before circling the table himself.

Martin opened the jacket, now sit down himself - he had turned the patio table so they could both enjoy the view of the garden with a little turn of their head.  
He conjured a pack of matches from his jacket pocket, lit the candles - just like in a restaurant, only when one had taken a seat.

The blue eyes shone over to Emma.

"May I pour you some water?" he asked politely.  
"Yes, please," Emma breathed, overwhelmed. 

Martin stood up, buttoned his jacket again, came over to her.  
He poured her water from the carafe, then placed his hand on her bare shoulder blade, or rather only the tips of his fingers and the ball of his hand touched her naked delicate skin very discreetly and not obtrusively.

"Since the menu of the day offers bruschetta and tomato mozzarella as an appetiser, I would pour you some white wine as well."  
"Thank you, Martin." she breathed, still overwhelmed; the delicate touch felt heavenly, especially because it was so subtle, very respectful and not intrusive, more flirtatious and making you want much more of these sensual touches.  
"Would you like to toast our date with white wine or red wine?" he asked in a warm nasal voice.  
"Um,... " she murmured. "Oh God,... Martin." she breathed and looked up at him, placing her hand on his that had just put the white wine back on the table. "You're,... you're really quite a wonderful and gorgeous man;... I'm a little overwhelmed right now,... with this stunning table, these gorgeous manners and with that smashing man standing next to me. Can you please decide?" she said honestly and overwhelmed.

Martin smiled, enjoying her hand on his, enjoying the honest and sincere words, and her compliments. 

"I'm a little overwhelmed by that stunning and gorgeous woman I have a date with tonight too," he smiled sincerely, his voice flirtatious. "I would suggest that we toast our dinner date with the red wine."

Slowly he let go of the white wine bottle, feeling her hand slip from his.  
He took the red wine, feeling warm and tingly - he liked that she was sincere and honest about her feelings.  
Still the balls of his hand and the tips of his fingers innocently touched her bare shoulder blade - he poured her some red wine and very delicately, with a tiny touch, let the tips of his fingers brush her shoulder blade as he stepped back and circled the table again.

He had to swallow, not noticing Emma's gulping as he poured himself some wine and water.  
He still felt tingly; he still felt heated, his mouth still dry.

Before he sat down, he unbutton the jacket again. 

Emma beamed at him, eyes glowing, actually making it quite clear what she wanted - but his head refused to believe it, while his heart did somersaults and the butterflies in his stomach danced wildly.  
Martin beamed at Emma, eyes glowing, blazing, sparkling; actually, making it quite clear to her what he wanted - but her head still interfered quite cheekily, still planting worries; he-finds-me-determinedly-too-young worries; while her heart skipped beats and the butterflies in her stomach celebrated. 

They raised their glasses, looked at each other dreamily. 

"To a very lovely Italian evening," Martin breathed.  
"To a stunning evening at the best Italian restaurant in the city," Emma smiled lovingly.

They held out their arms, clinked their glasses, then sipped from them.

During dinner, Martin didn't miss the opportunity to spoil her - not because he wanted to impress her; he was just being himself.  
He loved to spoil others, and Emma he could spoil wonderfully.

His good manners lasted all evening.  
Every time he got up he closed his jacket, every time he sat down he opened the button again.  
He always let Emma go first, never poured drinks for her from a sitting position, but always came to her.  
He constantly inquired about her wishes or read them from her eyes even before she asked him.  
He flirted with her, chatted with her, listened to her, gave her his undivided attention.  
His touches remained innocent and respectful - as soon as he stood with her; as soon as he touched her naked tender skin.  
He served her the food, he wished her a good appetite again and again, inquired about second helpings and allowed enough time to pass between the individual courses.  
He bantered with her, laughed with her - was just being himself.

He was just Martin, who liked to spoil his date, who could be a true gentleman, but who still didn't lose his humour, his charm and his cheekiness.

Emma had enjoyed the evening so far.  
She had enjoyed Martin.  
She had enjoyed the food.  
It had been a stunning date with a gorgeous man, who was once again smashingly handsome tonight.

He had spoiled her immensely, but quite authentically and with wit and charm.  
He had spoiled her with an appetiser, which had been very beautifully arranged; a plate for each of them - a small bruschetta and some tomato mozzarella; it had tasted heavenly.  
He had spoiled her with gentle touches, with tender words, with soft looks.  
He had spoiled her with a lasagne - also beautifully arranged on a plate; and it had tasted so well that she had begged him for more.  
He had spoiled her with music, with great conversations, with his attention, with his scattiness and his interest.  
He had spoiled her with tiramisu - it had melted in her mouth.  
He had spoiled her with his flirting and his bantering.

They sat opposite each other, the sun had set, the candles and the cosy patio lighting made them sit in a romantic light and atmosphere.

They looked at each other, eyed each other, held intense eye contact - enjoying the sight of each other.  
Not for the first time this evening, they silently gazed at each other over their wine glasses.

Martin put the wine glass back on the table.  
He stood up smiling, no longer having to close his jacket, because after the dessert he had taken it off, as well as his tie - the first button of his shirt was open.  
For half an hour already, he had been enjoying the mild summer air that kept brushing against his warm body.  
Martin circled the table, reached his hand down to Emma.

Without words, he asked her for a dance. 

Emma put her hand in his, let him help her up.  
She followed him a few steps, then stood right in front of him.  
She smiled, was taller because of the high heels - she slipped out of the shoes, fell easily into his arms; there they were again, the three centimetres she was shorter than him.

Martin smiled, took her right hand in his, placed his right hand on her back - felt the soft bare skin, felt his hand tingle and sparkle.  
Again, just the tips of his fingers and the balls of his hands lay lightly and delicately on her bare skin; not intrusive, very respectful. 

The quiet jazz music was a perfect match for a close and romantic slow dance.

Emma let herself be led, put her hand against Martin's back.  
Tonight, he had not only proved that he was a stunning gentleman who loved to spoil others; he had also proved that he was an excellent cook - and now he was proving very clearly that he was also an excellent dancer.

"Thank you for this stunning date," Emma breathed in a quiet voice, letting him lead her during their dance.  
Martin rested his cheek lightly against hers - it was only a gossamer touch, as if he didn't want to cross a line.  
"The date doesn't have to be over yet," he breathed in a whisper with murmuring warmth.

Emma snuggled against his body, enjoying his fingertips and the balls of his hand, just very light against her bare back, enjoying his cheek leaning very lightly against hers.  
She didn't have the feeling that he was paying a lot of attention not to grope her – it was rather something else; she had the feeling as if he were acting intuitively. It was the way he had learned to treat a woman; the way he felt it was appropriate to treat a woman.  
It wasn't paying attention, it was his way of behaving with a woman, his way of treating a woman.  
She enjoyed it - immensely.

She let herself be led, enjoyed dancing with Martin.  
"Are we enjoying a dance night?..." she asked him. "…After the really successful evening in the restaurant and this fantastic dinner?"  
"Yes,... now you and I go dancing," he murmured softly.

Martin leaned back a little and smiled at her, letting her spin around before he gave her physical closeness again.

"Until they throw us out?" she smiled in the soft dancing hug.  
Again, she was spun around, expertly, quite in the rhythm of the music.  
"Until they throw us out," Martin smiled against her cheek.


	19. Cheese Nachos, Popcorn & An Important Bottle Of Wine

>em> **\- Thursday, August/06 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's House -**

Jazz, swing and soul music sounded in the kitchen of the huge English house.  
The good humour was reflected not only by the music but also in the atmosphere between Martin and Emma, and in their facial expressions and postures. 

The mood was exuberant - Emma and Martin enjoyed their shared passion of music and the shared passion of the genres that resounded through the kitchen. 

Another date for both of them after having taken a friendly break yesterday.  
Yesterday they hadn't been on a date; yesterday they had just enjoyed their friendship all day long - during breakfast, during an undiscovered little stroll, during browsing through Martin's records, during chatting enthusiastically in the music room and listening to the records; during a lovely lunch and dinner, during a cosy evening, watching TV.  
Yesterday they had not been on a date, but yesterday they had proved that there was not only a gobsmacking romantic crackle between them, but that there was a firm foundation of deep and sincere trustful friendship.  
They enjoyed another date today - cooking and a movie night; enjoying two of their Skype dates up close again.

They had already prepared everything in the kitchen; the ingredients were ready as well as the utensils for cooking.  
Today they would prepare Martin's Vegetable Pie.

"So, I'm ready as your cooking assistant," Emma beamed at Martin - dressed casually today, yet there was a hint of elegance and a pinch of seductive allure in her outfit. "What do we have to do first?" she asked full of energy - she really looked forward cooking with Martin.

Martin looked across the kitchen island, looked at Emma; he was also dressed casually, but there was not only cosiness in his outfit, but also charm and elegance; he had dressed up a bit despite the cosy date, just like Emma – and just like Emma, he was also wearing perfume.  
He bent down a little, reached into a shelf hidden in the kitchen island and conjured a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"First we need the most important ingredient..." he grinned. "And I learned a few weeks ago that wine is the most important ingredient. So, we should enjoy a bit of it first."

Emma laughed, glancing over at Martin - she circled the kitchen island, coming towards him.

"Grandma Carlotta would be very proud of you," she smirked. Her hand settled on his upper arm, rested on the skin not covered by the polo shirt - fingers brushing over bare skin, caressing delicately over his bare forearm. "Let's enjoy ourselves then," she breathed, smiling.  
Martin gazed at her, unable to do anything about the goosebumps spreading on his arm - he cleared his throat.  
"You should tell her 'thank you' from me when you get the chance," he smiled, turning his head towards the wine.

Emma smiled at him, staying close, having not only felt the goosebumps, but seen them.  
She sensed the shyness in him that had spread in his body with the goosebumps - it made her smile.  
She put her hand to his lumbar spine.  
Feeling him, that was an incredibly lovely privilege at the moment; she wanted to take advantage of it, and she couldn't suppress that urge at all.  
During all their dates via Skype she hadn't been able to touch him, she hadn't been able to feel any touches from him either, that's why now she kept giving him little touches, that's why now she was happy about every one of his touches, as small as they sometimes were.  
She stood close to him, perceiving his very own smell and the scent of his perfume - in combination an exquisite scent for her nose, but also separately a feast for her fine nose too. If this stunning man were her boyfriend, she would nuzzle her face into the crook of his neck right away, nosing in this exquisite scent - with relish.  
She turned her head from the wine to Martin, examined the crook of his neck while Martin poured them wine - she noticed small, very fine beauty marks that she had not noticed before. The crook of his neck certainly felt nice and warm.  
She licked her lips as Martin turned to her with the glasses in his hand.

His eyebrows lifted in a sly smile. 

"Well, woman from Malta, what were we thinking about?" his voice asked in a murmuring and flirtatious way, and also a little cheeky - he could no longer feel her hand on his lumbar spine now, but instead he felt it on his hip.  
"A woman must have her secrets too, outrageously good smelling man from England." she smiled flirtatiously and winked, revealing part of her secret to the clever man.  
Martin glanced at her, a knowing smile lay on his lips. He handed Emma one of the wine glasses, took a step closer, placed his hand on her lumbar spine, bent down a very tiny bit to her ear - his voice sounding whispery after his nose had sniffed deeply and deliberately at her; betraying him.  
"I love it when there are still a few secrets." 

Again, he nosed her, deliberately conspicuous - he sniffed, and then he sighed in her ear; very delicately, very pleasurably, secretly revealing that he loved the smell of her extremely. 

Emma swallowed, closed her eyes; her heart had stopped, the butterflies in her stomach were hyperactive.  
There was an intensive romantic crackle.  
She swallowed again, still feeling him close – hopefully, she wouldn't be sitting on the couch one day with lovesickness and a broken heart because of him; hopefully, her head believed the wrong thing; hopefully, it wasn't just a little flirty and erotic fun for Martin; hopefully, it was her heart and stomach that were right about her feeling that he was deeply and truly in love with her. 

And again, she swallowed when Martin kissed her cheek with a gossamer kiss - his lips had flirtatiously barely touched her.

Martin felt the tingle on his lips, looked down to Emma - saw the glowing eyes.  
His stomach told him she was deeply in love.  
His heart told him that it was him who she was truly and deeply in love with.  
His head told him that he would never be that lucky, that he'd better keep worrying if he wasn’t far too old for her, that he was probably getting himself into something here that would end in piss-poor lovesickness and a deeply and incurable broken heart.  
Martin felt the tingle on his lips, looked at Emma - his inner voice was cursing his head, giving him a royal dressing down, cursing and grumbling, telling him to shut the fuck up.

"To Grandma Carlotta, the most important ingredient, a lovely date and a fantastic evening for the two of us," he breathed.  
"Yes,... to Granny, the wine, another great date and a fantastic evening for just the two of us," Emma breathed.

They smiled at each other, looked into each other's eyes, toasted, sipped the full-bodied red wine. 

While the jazz, soul and swing music sounded through the kitchen, it was Martin who gave Emma the instructions this time.  
But there were not only instructions for cooking, but also lively conversations in which he engaged her; there was shared banter and laughter, there was shared snacking. 

The atmosphere was buoyant and exuberant, cosy and comfortable, romantic and crackling, silly and cheeky, calm and harmonious. 

As in the last few days, they proved once again that they were not only in perfect harmony at a distance, but also up close.  
If Laura could see them, she would pat herself on the back and let her husband praise her incessantly for the rest of the year - for this excellent idea to introduce her brother to the owner of the most famous Maltese record store, or rather to make this dream of a woman Martin's souvenir.  
As in the last few days, the deep and magical bond was palpable, the quickly grown and strengthened friendship, as well as the fact that they were made for each other - two lost puzzle pieces had found each other.

The tones of the next song sounded - Classic Motown.  
It was 'I can't help myself' by The Temptations.

And once again, not only could the voices of the singers be heard in the kitchen, but also the voices of Emma and Martin, who were singing along exuberantly as they prepared the pie, as well as the sweet potato fries, salad and dessert.

It wasn't the first time tonight.

"Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch, you know that I love you; I can't help myself, I love you and nobody else... ", their voices were singing along with talent - boisterous and happy, feet moving to the beat.

Emma walked towards Martin, wanted to pass him something, was still singing with him, but stopped when she reached him.  
She could still hear Martin's voice.

"Leaving just your picture behind, and I kissed it a thousand ti... ", Martin's singing voice also died away. He tilted his head, looked happily and comfortably at Emma, looked at her questioningly. "What's wrong?" he asked with a smile, his eyes beaming softly at her, the blue shimmering warmly.

Emma smiled, feeling at ease singing or dancing around the kitchen with him this exuberantly; and she had the impression that it made Martin feel very comfortable and secure too.

"You've messed up that lovely polo shirt." she smiled gently and put the bowl of sliced apples meant for their dessert down next to the cooker. 

Martin glanced at her, then glanced down at his dark green polo shirt, actually saw a rather large light stain - custard.  
He raised his head, looked at Emma, who was coming towards him again with a damp cloth.  
He tilted his head, felt her close.  
Her left hand rested on his sternum, straightened the polo shirt a little bit; her right hand held the damp cloth, stroking his chest.  
He looked down slightly, did not watch her remove the stain - he looked into her face.  
He felt her warm hand through the polo shirt, felt the gentle movements of the damp cloth, felt her fingers again and again.  
His eyes darted over her face - she looked focused, and stunningly beautiful.  
His heart was skipping beat after beat; he couldn’t believe it - his heart was doing somersaults because this beautiful woman had removed a vanilla sauce stain from his polo shirt. 

Emma lifted her head, smiling at him as the stain was completely gone.

"This time, you were the mucky pup," she winked softly, unaware that there were severe goose bumps on Martin's torso and back.  
Martin took the damp cloth from her hand, threw it to the sink, even hit it. He looked back at her, smiling.  
"I would have loved to clean up that tomato sauce stain during our Skype date," he breathed charmingly and flirtatiously, still knowing that it had been on her cleavage, very close to her right breast.  
Emma smiled, gently and playfully tapping the wet spot that was now on Martin's polo shirt.  
"I'll try my hardest to spill during our next cooking date," she breathed glibly, flirtatiously.

Martin smiled, bit his lower lip, licked his lips.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The joint cooking date slowly turned into a casual dinner date, became a movie night after dinner and Emma's raving about the delicious pie, salad and dessert.

There was a lot of enjoyment, a lot of contentment and comfort, a lot of fun and frolic.  
There was a lot of peace and harmony, a lot of enthusiasm and romantic crackle, a lot of romance and actually very obvious affection.

Martin was completely thrilled - not only by this date, but also by Emma.  
She gave him very special feelings with an intensity he had never felt before.  
He had never felt so happy and satisfied, never so calm and completely relaxed, never so comfortable and balanced as with her.  
And he had definitely never loved a woman that much.  
He had never trusted any woman at his side or on a date this unconditionally - in fact, he had never felt this kind of trust with any girlfriend, not even with Amanda or Jeanne.  
With Emma, he could be fully himself - with everything that made him just him; whether it was the exuberant sing-along in the kitchen, a grumble or a swear, a quirk or a tic; it didn't matter; with Emma, he could be fully himself and feel completely comfortable, safe and secure.  
Not once had he begged god to give him this woman, to give him this woman's love. 

Their date now took place on the couch - with salty popcorn, with cheese nachos and coke. 

They were lounging on the couch, having chosen another old classic today - 'The Royal Wedding' with Fred Astaire from 1951.  
They sat very close to each other, so close that they could feel the other - their upper arms, their hips, their legs. 

On Martin's lap was a bag full of salty popcorn - or rather, it was only half full by now.  
On Emma's lap was a small tray - the cheese nachos in one bowl, the warm cheese sauce with the jalapeños in a second bowl.

Her pairs of eyes were fixed on the television.  
Their arms crossed, their hands grabbed the snacks courageously.  
Martin's hand helped himself to the nachos.  
Emma's hand helped herself to the popcorn.

Martin turned his head towards her, dipping the nacho in the cheese sauce.  
Emma's head turned to him as well.

A smile spread across their faces.  
Warm and gentle.

Martin looked into her eyes, spontaneously guided the nacho to her mouth.  
Emma let herself be fed with a fast-beating heart, took several bites of her cinema snack.  
She licked her lips, smiled at Martin, took a popcorn from her hand - she guided it to his mouth.  
Martin didn't take his eyes off her, just opened his mouth, let himself be fed.

One popcorn disappeared into his mouth, lips gossamer touching Emma's fingers.  
A second popcorn disappeared in his mouth after a moment.  
Slowly the third followed and the fourth, the fifth and sixth - Emma's hand was empty.

The smile grew bigger.  
The heart was beating even faster.  
The belly tingled a little more.

Again, Martin helped himself to Emma's nachos, dipped it again in the cheese sauce - he smiled at her, winked charmingly, turned his head back to the TV.  
Emma smiled at his profile, helped herself to his popcorn again too - for a little moment she thought about a longing, then turned her thought into action.

Emma slid a little lower, rested her head on Martin's shoulder, made herself comfortable, then fed herself the salty popcorn - it was even more cosy, felt even better than in her own imagination during the cinema date via Skype.

Martin's heart did somersaults again.  
The nacho disappeared into his mouth, he licked his fingers clean, rubbed them clean on his other hand - he too put a thought into action.  
He raised his arm, put it around Emma's shoulder, felt that she was now snuggling up to his chest even more comfortable.  
Slowly, he leaned his head to the right, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

Martin and Emma smiled blissfully at the television.  
Hearts were doing somersaults.  
The butterflies fluttered excitedly.  
Knees were soft.  
Bodies were tingling.  
Martin and Emma beamed blissfully at the TV.

And a few minutes later, they got a little more comfortable in their new sitting position.  
As Emma snuggled even closer to his chest and sank into the gentle one-armed embrace, Martin nuzzled his cheek into Emma's hair a little more, letting his hand now come to rest on Emma's bare skin on her upper arm. 

It felt familiar.


	20. Pistachio & Coconut

_**\- Friday, August/07 - 2020, London, Hampstead -** _

Emma and Martin strolled through the quiet and almost empty streets of Hampstead.  
The sun shone in the almost cloudless sky, spending summer warmth and heat.

It was another date - this stroll was another date; the date they had already enjoyed at some distance when Emma had taken the man from England for a walk through Sliema and Valletta.  
Today, Martin took the woman from Malta for a stroll through Hampstead and Hampstead Heath.

Emma was wearing a white round-neck T-shirt with short sleeves, the fabric had been tied into a knot at the side - and even though the black tight hipsters sat a little higher, they still showed some bare skin on her stomach.  
Martin was wearing well-fitting beige chino shorts and a black polo shirt.  
They both wore sneakers - again, it looked as if they had matched each other’s outfits, although they hadn't at all.

They strolled comfortably side by side, enjoying the warmth and closeness to each other.

They didn’t wear masks - it was not compulsory in the streets, and at the moment they could keep a good distance from others; but just in case Hampstead Heath was busy, they had taken the masks with them.  
They didn’t wear masks, but sunglasses sat on each of their noses.

They strolled leisurely side by side, but before they reached Hampstead Heath, a paparazzi snapped some pictures - undetected.

Martin and Emma didn't notice him, were far too engrossed in their conversation, each busy with the other, enjoying their walk, their date and the visit.

The paparazzi couldn't capture Emma and Martin holding hands, kissing or cuddling, but in his photos they were walking side by side, in his photos Martin was laughing and grinning at Emma; in his photos Emma was laughing and Martin was smirking cheekily; in his photos they were talking animatedly, in his photos they were bantering and in high spirits. 

Martin and Emma didn't notice him, were far too busy with their fast-beating hearts and the butterflies in their stomachs, enjoying the feelings the other triggered.

They strolled through Hampstead Heath; but while Emma had been able to show him many new things in Sliema and Valletta, Martin could not do so in Hampstead Heath, for Emma had already been here several times.

"My little sightseeing tour doesn't really make any sense - you know Hampstead Heath quite well," Martin smiled beside her.  
"I'm enjoying your sightseeing tour anyway. It's different from during my other visits - without you. And you've never been to Malta before, no matter where I would have taken you, it would have been the first time for you. I like our stroll. I like this date." she breathed. "And I like that it's going to turn into an ice cream sundae date as soon as we get back to your place."  
Martin smiled at her, smiling a tiny bit down at her.  
"I really like it too, and I'm looking forward to the follow-up date too - even if we had to change the ice cream parlour," he winked charmingly.  
Emma smiled softly.  
"Yes, that's right. The ice cream parlour by the sea is closed. I think the owner isn't there at the moment. She's on holiday I think," Emma winked.

They grinned at each other, smirking together.

They had caught a good day for their sightseeing date - Hampstead Heath was quiet despite the good weather; it wasn't empty, but they could keep enough distance from the few people they met.

Martin's heart found it hard to pound calmly since Emma had looked into the window of his car at the airport; the butterflies hadn't actually taken a break since then either.  
He had fallen deeply and truly in love with Emma - he could justifiably say that he had never been that much in love in his entire life.  
Emma took his breath away.  
His sister had actually done a great job so far, not doing much at all apart from passing on Emma's contact to him and arranging a Skype date that hadn't even been the first one.  
Hopefully, this souvenir would turn out to be what it was supposed to be - a successful matchmaking attempt.  
Otherwise, he would have a hard time ahead of him with a lot of heartache. 

Strolling, their walk took them through Hampstead Heath - through the green, through the sun, through August and summer.

Emma enjoyed the walk - she enjoyed the warm summer air, Martin's presence, chatting with him, laughing and bantering, his little stories.  
Tummy tingling and heart pounding, she walked beside him through Hampstead Heath.  
Even during their first Skype meeting in March, she had understood that she had been Laura's souvenir for Martin, that Laura had wanted to set them up - and she fervently hoped that this attempt would be successful.  
She was reluctant to exchange these amorous feelings towards him for heartbreak, because during the skyping and the distance between them she had fallen a little more in love with him with each day they had been in contact - he had long since stolen her heart.  
She had never felt these intense feelings before – hopefully, Laura's plan would work.  
Martin was breathtaking.  
She felt he was her perfect match - the question was whether she was his too.

Together they enjoyed their time in Hampstead Heath, even sitting down for a few minutes before heading back after a long walk.  
It had been filled with fond memories, with funny stories, with charming flirting, blue bright eyes, happy faces, brown bright eyes, tummy tingles and heart palpitations, laughter, banter. 

They had walked back to Martin.  
Martin had made coffee, poured them a glass of water, brought both out into the garden.  
Martin had been standing in the kitchen, preparing the ice cream sundaes.

Coconut for Emma - mango pieces, chocolate sprinkles, chocolate drops, coconut sprinkles and chocolate sauce; at the end he had put several large and longer coconut pieces into the ice cream.  
Pistachio for himself - raspberries, colourful sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles in brown and white, two crumbled biscuits, chocolate sauce - and at the end he had put an After Eight in his ice cream.

Martin took the two sundaes, went out into the garden, walked onto the terrace, smiled at Emma. 

The coconut sundae was placed in front of her.  
The pistachio cup was set down in front of him. 

Martin took a seat - he wasn't sitting opposite her, he was practically sitting next to her, there was only the corner of the wooden table between them. 

"It looks great!" beamed Emma. "And so does yours." she smiled and tilted her head. "You remembered my sundae on our first date..." she breathed.  
Martin smiled at her.  
"After all, I enjoyed the date attentively and watched you eating ice cream with relish for a while," he winked.  
"It's still nice that you remember after almost four months," she breathed.

Martin slid his chair a little closer to the corner of the table.  
"I remember something else too," he murmured softly in her direction. "You were going to let me taste your ice cream," he flirted. "And I wanted to let you taste mine."  
He took his spoon, letting it run through the ice cream and toppings before holding it in front of Emma's mouth with a charming smile.

Emma glanced at Martin, swallowed, looked at the spoon and then into Martin's eyes.  
She opened her mouth.  
Martin fed her, letting the spoon move slowly into her mouth, letting her enjoy the ice cream.

He winked gently at her.  
"Do you still get weak while eating any kind of ice cream?" he asked, charming and flirtatious.  
He saw her nod, saw the glowing eyes, saw the bright smile; saw the look of enjoyment on her face - she had clearly enjoyed the ice cream.

Emma took her spoon, ran it through the ice cream and toppings, then held the spoon in front of Martin's mouth.

Martin looked deep into her eyes, then briefly looked down at the spoon and back up into Emma's eyes.  
He opened his mouth - was being fed by Emma.  
His heart raced fast, skipped a few beats.

Emma eyed him with brown eyes, looked deep into his eyes.  
"Still not getting weak on ice cream?" she murmured flirtatiously.  
Martin swallowed the ice cream, licked his lips, looked deep into her eyes.  
"Still not getting weak on it." he murmured.

His spoon ran through Emma's ice cream, feeding it to her, watching her enjoy it again.  
"I'll stick with cake... I still love the sweet things if we're still talking about food," he murmured flirtatiously as he lowered his spoon.  
He opened his mouth, now being fed his pistachio ice cream; feeling the fierce romantic crackle between him and Emma. 

"What makes you weak if we stop talking about food?" asked Emma flirtatiously.  
"You.", Martin breathed a single word that gave Emma goosebumps, that made her shiver pleasantly; words that had left his lips murmuring, flirtatious and charming. 

Martin lowered his spoon, still gazing into Emma's eyes.  
He lifted his hand, put his thumb on her lip, caressed her cold lips on which there had been a small drop of coconut-flavoured ice cream. 

He leaned a little towards her, but Emma leaned a little towards him too.  
Their eyes scrutinised each other fervently. 

Their eyes slowly closed.  
Their lips melted into a kiss.

Coconut and pistachio melted in the ice cream bowls.

Soft was the first kiss, very gentle and tender, very loving and tasting.  
They tasted coconut and pistachio, tasted coldness but also warmth.  
The throbbing of the heart could be heard in their ears, the tingling of butterflies could be felt throughout their bodies.

Gently, their lips lay on each other, resting, no longer moving. 

Martin raised his hand, placed it on Emma's cheek.  
Emma put her hand on the back of his neck, let the tips of her fingers disappear into his short hair. 

Their eyes were still closed, their lips still resting on each other - they were enjoying and savouring, both could hardly believe that they had just kissed. 

Pistachio and coconut melted in the warmth of August.

A second kiss - soft and breathy, again very loving and savouring. It tasted warm and exciting.  
Martin's thumb caressed Emma's cheek; he felt her fingertips in his hair, crawling him; he got goosebumps, shivered pleasantly.

And again, their lips just lay motionless on each other.

They nosed in each other's scent - the smell and the perfume, the warmth that the other radiated.

A third kiss - it too tasted exceptionally good.  
They enjoyed each other's lips, enjoyed the kiss, enjoyed the racing heart and tingling stomach, the soft knees and physical closeness.  
It was the third kiss that took their breath away. 

And once again their lips rested on each other.

They were silent, breathing, nuzzling each other's noses.  
They kept their eyes closed.  
Moments passed, seconds passed, almost a minute passed.

A fourth kiss - Martin's hand slid to the nape of Emma's neck, fingers brushing into the hair tied together.  
He nibbled her lower lip, licked it gently, asking for entrance - and he was allowed to deepen the kiss.  
They both drew in their breath as their tongues touched for the first time.  
The kiss became passionate, but still they savoured it.

Pistachio and coconut mingled with chocolate sauce. 

For a brief moment, their lips rested on each other.

A fifth kiss - Martin gently grabbed Emma's hair, felt Emma's grasping hand in his hair too.  
They sighed, deepening the kiss immediately, letting it become more passionate, letting it become more intimate, giving themselves to the kiss.  
Their tongues enjoyed an elegant dance. 

The heart pounding too hard, the stomach tingling too much, the knees too soft - it made them rest the kiss again, just tasting the lips that felt so fantastic.  
They were melting in each other's hands.

A sixth kiss - Emma gripped a little tighter into the grey soft hair, Martin let his hand wander out of Emma's hair again, but he put his hand to Emma's cheek and ear, holding her face.  
The kiss deepened - Emma nibbled his lower lip, Martin licked her lower lip.  
It became more passionate as their tongues met in a new dance - intimacy, passion, desire and longing.  
The kiss picked up speed, their tongues dancing wildly.  
They purred and sighed into the kiss. 

Pistachio and Coconut mingled with the toppings.

Martin and Emma enjoyed the passionate kiss, savoured the kiss, explored each other, tasted each other, had long forgotten the ice cream.  
There was still an immense romantic crackle between them - and as passionate as the kiss was, it was equally charming and flirtatious.  
It harmonised perfectly.  
Their lips harmonised, the kiss harmonised, they harmonised.

Only slowly did the passionate French kiss become soft and tender and breathy again.

Martin's teeth captured her lower lip, released it tentatively.  
Slowly, his lips broke apart from hers.

They opened their eyes, looked at each other.  
Martin's hand was still on Emma's cheek and ear.  
Emma's hand was still in Martin's hair at the back of his head.  
They looked deep into each other's eyes. 

The kisses they had exchanged, all six of them, had spoken quite clearly and without a doubt of their feelings for each other.  
The six kisses had said quite bluntly and honestly, quite tenderly and lovingly, quite longingly and passionately, that they were hopelessly in love with each other, that the intense feelings for each other were mutual.

A smile crept onto their moist lips - it grew bigger with every passing second.  
The glow and radiance in their eyes grew warmer and more loving. 

There was a fierce romantic crackling between them.

Martin swallowed, licked his lips, was still very close to her. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I hoped for it very much... but didn't dare believing in it," he breathed in a whisper, his voice warm.  
"I didn't dare believing in it either... but I hoped for it just as much," Emma breathed, leaning her forehead against his for a moment. 

They exchanged a kiss - a very small one, a very gentle one.

They leaned back a little, still very close, still gazing deeply into each other's eyes, still able to feel the romantic crackle.  
They spoke at the same time, unintentionally letting their voices sound at the same time.

"I thought I am too young for you."  
"I thought I am too old for you."

The smile on their lips widened - they had heard what the other had said.  
The sundaes were pushed to the side.

Martin tilted his head, caressed Emma's cheek very gently, let his thumb brush the corner of her mouth briefly.  
"We were worried about the same thing?"  
"It just looks that way," she breathed.  
She glanced at him, stroking the back of his neck with her hand, letting her fingers brush over the warm skin - she immediately felt goosebumps under her fingertips.

"You're not too young for me," Martin breathed in a warm voice - he enjoyed her caresses. "I don't care what birth year is written on your ID. My eyes see quite clearly a beautiful woman who is clearly much younger than me, but who doesn't make me feel that she is much younger or that I am much older."

"And you're not too old for me.", Emma smiled in a loving voice - enjoying his closeness and the hand on her cheek and ear. "What does your birth year say? Your personality, your values and views, and passions are more important - and what they say makes me feel incredibly comfortable." she breathed.

They smiled at each other, hearts beating in the same rapid and euphoric rhythm.  
Their lips found themselves in a new kiss.  
A warm and comforting kiss.  
They let the tips of their noses brush over each other.

"And you are sure tha... ", they stopped, had spoken again at the same time with the same words.

Martin waited a moment, grinning with Emma, but with Emma waiting for him, he spoke his thoughts.

"You were going to ask me if I’m sure," he smirked - and then he smiled. "I'm very sure that I don't mind that you're 30. I don't notice that age difference when we're chatting and discussing, when we're gabbing and sharing our experiences, when we're talking about our passions, when we're laughing and joking with each other, when we're just being together. And what can I say... I'd be a terrible liar if I wouldn't admit that I really love that I can see the age difference with my eyes," he complimented her. "I love being with you - because you give me what I need, what I crave and what I want... in a relationship."

Emma gazed at him, feeling her heart skip beats over and over again.

"You were going to ask me the same thing. And I am very sure too - for the same reasons. You're a stunning man with a multi-faceted personality, and it's fantastic to be just on the same page with you, to be with you, to spend time with you, to just be together with you. And I'd also be a bad liar if I wouldn’t admit that I'm pretty much in love with your grey hair and every single wrinkle," she smiled with a wink. "And also, you give me what I want in a relationship, what I crave and what I need in a relationship."

They beamed at each other, their smiles widening.  
They exchanged another kiss.

Kissing, they enjoyed the closeness of each other, giving each other little kisses - Martin's voice could be heard as they did so.  
"I think the ice cream sundae date has now turned into a milkshake date," he murmured, giving her several little kisses before leaning back a little and looking at the sundaes.  
"I'm not averse to a milkshake date with you either," she breathed and pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek - she could feel him smiling.  
Martin's head turned back to Emma, he let the tip of his nose circle the tip of hers.

Their lips melted into a kiss again.  
They were wax in each other's hands.  
They literally melted under the other's tender kiss.  
Pistachio and coconut had long since melted.


	21. An Extraordinary Couple

_**\- Friday, August/07 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

The ice cream had melted; the sticky liquid mixed with the chocolate sauce and various toppings floated in the cups.  
The ice cream had been forgotten.  
The 'milkshakes' had also been long forgotten. 

Kissing, Martin and Emma enjoyed their closeness to each other.

Still sitting on his garden chair, Martin seduced Emma in the next longing kiss - tender and loving.  
He let his hands wander from her bottom back up to her back, caressed across the white T-shirt, let his fingertips brush teasingly over her neck and nape, let his hands disappear into her undone braid.  
She had sat down on his lap a few minutes ago - and he had to admit, he couldn't remember the last time a woman had sat on his lap just to cuddle or kiss him; he wasn't even sure if this had ever happened; sex excluded.  
No matter that he couldn't remember and was absolutely not sure if it had even happened before, he could say without a doubt that he loved and enjoyed it.  
He loved that she had sat down on his lap to cuddle and smooch, to be closer to him.  
Martin sighed into the kiss.

The tingling in his stomach had remained, but felt different now - more relieved, happier, more content; now that he knew Emma had fallen in love with him too, that this was the start of a relationship.  
He felt comfortable with and around her.  
He felt safe and secure, had the feeling that he was in very good hands with her.  
She made him feel good. 

He could still feel the romantic crackling between them.

Emma snuggled closer to Martin, had wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her hands in the grey and soft hair; again and again the delicate fingers gripped the soft hair, felt the thick strands.  
She melted away under his kisses, enjoyed them, couldn't get enough of them.  
He was an excellent kisser, and even while kissing he knew how to be charming and how to flirt with her.  
His answer to the question of what would make him weak was still buzzing through her head.  
You.  
Her heart thumped wildly against her ribcage as her head remembered that 'you' during the kiss.  
This man really knew how to flirt.

Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest, her butterflies were also wildly busy, her knees still felt very soft.  
It was a beautiful and breathtaking feeling to sit on his lap, to smooch and cuddle with him and to know that it was not just the exchange of physical closeness, but that there were honest, deep and sincere feelings behind it.  
She felt his affection, felt his infatuation.  
She felt comfortable and safe with him.  
She felt complete. 

She could still feel the romantic crackle between them. 

Deeply they both drew the air into their lungs as they ended the kiss.  
Their lips were red and swollen.  
They looked deep into each other's eyes, licked their lips.

Martin looked up at Emma, letting his hands slip out of her hair.  
He stroked all the loose strands behind her ear, beaming at her.  
"My sister really did bring me a stunning and quite extraordinary souvenir from her holiday. I thought about unwrapping it for a long time because I just couldn't think of an excuse," he breathed. "I'm glad I unpacked it and found you."  
Emma beamed down at him with brown eyes.  
She let her hand run through his hair, enjoying the feel of the thick, soft strands sliding through her fingers.  
"I don't think Laura could have brought you anything better from Malta," she smiled with a wink. "And I'm glad you found an excuse and contacted me - and that you didn't even need the excuse."  
Martin nodded with a smile. 

Emma leaned down a little, kissed Martin's forehead, then nuzzled her cheek against his.  
She wrapped her arms around him, cuddled up to him, hugged him lovingly yet possessively.  
Martin wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into the embrace, held her protectively and equally possessively. He nuzzled his cheek against her tender cheek, closed his eyes as well. 

They felt their rapidly beating hearts. 

The warm summer breeze brushed around their cuddling bodies.  
The sun warmed them, but it had melted the ice cream, made the water warm and the coffee unheeded yet cold. 

Martin's fingers caressed across the T-shirt, caressed her shoulders, her spine, down her back.  
His fingers reached the exposed bare skin that the T-shirt revealed.  
Fiercely, the heart pounded against his chest and hers.  
The fingers caressed the bare skin, softly.  
Goosebumps he felt under his fingertips.

She shivered in his embrace. 

The lightly tanned skin felt tender and soft, quite warm and pleasant.  
He let the fingertips caress the bare skin, but the hand did not continue to wander under the T-shirt - he only caressed the bare skin that the T-shirt had released. 

His head turned to hers.  
He breathed a kiss on her delicate cheek, then nudged his nose against it.  
He felt her smile, let himself be infected, smiled too.  
He breathed a second kiss on her cheek, nudged his nose against her tender cheek again.  
A third kiss he breathed on the soft and flawless skin.  
And then he couldn’t hold back any longer - the infatuation, the pure happiness and the immense feeling of security, made him act.  
He bit her cheek gently. 

Emma swallowed, nuzzled her cheek against his teeth, purred as he nibbled the skin again and then spread another kiss.  
Not only did her heart raced violently against her ribcage; it was beating violently against his ribcage too.  
In his arms, she shivered pleasantly. 

"You just taste too delicious." he murmured charmingly and flirtatiously against her cheek. 

Emma shivered pleasantly again, then turned her head to him, nuzzling her nose against his, nuzzling her lips against his.  
She stole a kiss, not letting his lips go.

The tingle rushed through every vein and fibre of their bodies.  
They smiled into the kiss.  
They could still hear the romantic crackle.  
The pounding of their hearts could be heard in their ears as well.

They were on cloud nine and they showed it to the other via looks, via caresses and via words - currently via the kiss they exchanged.

Emma let her lips dance with his pleasurable.  
Martin let her take the lead, enjoying her kiss, enjoying her tenderness and gentleness.  
Gently Emma's tongue licked his lip, tenderly her teeth nibbled his lip.  
Martin purred into the kiss, smiled into the kiss.  
Tenderly he was seduced into a French kiss.  
Emma let her tongue dance elegantly and longingly with his. 

Martin's fingers rested on the bare skin of Emma's back - her kiss was taking his breath away.  
Her kiss overwhelmed him, or rather the feelings she expressed with the kiss.  
When her lips withdrew, he leaned closer to her - he didn't want to let her go yet, he didn't want to have to give up her lips just yet.  
He felt her smile against his lips.  
He leaned even further towards her, stretching his head up a little, now entangling her in his kiss.  
He felt her smirk.  
A firm kiss he pressed to her lips.

His eyes opened, looked up at Emma - he winked charmingly, then blew another kiss on the corner of her mouth. 

"I was actually in the mood for a coffee - but it's cold now," he said, looking up. "If you'll let me get up for a minute, I'll make us two fresh coffees and then we'll enjoy a coffee date,... because I don't want to drink the broth in the cup as a sad milkshake," he smirked.  
"I'd like a coffee too - a coffee date too. But I hate to let you go. You could just take me with you." she wiggled her eyebrows gently. 

Martin looked into her eyes, studied her expression, smirked when he realised she was actually serious about it.  
He sat far enough away from the table to stand up with her.  
For a moment he was thinking about it - he had never carried Amanda or Jeanne, not even once; in general, he had never carried any of his girlfriends anywhere on his arms; he had done that a lot with his children, but never with his girlfriends. 

"It's probably better if I take you with me. I couldn’t last that long without a kiss right now anyway," he winked charmingly and flirtatiously.

He wrapped his arms around her body again, grabbed her under her butt, tried to stand up - and actually managed to stand up with her.  
He felt her arms around his neck; he felt her legs around his hips.  
He felt her kiss his temple, then she nestled her cheek against his. 

It was a very new feeling, a very first time - a first time and a new feeling that he liked a lot. 

He carried her across the terrace, carried her into the house, carried her to the kitchen - breathing a kiss on her cheek as he did so. 

It was cooler in the house, it was more pleasant in the house, as nice as the summer warmth was.  
It was quiet in the house, in the garden they had still heard the chirping of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. 

Martin carried Emma through the kitchen, letting her down on the kitchen island. 

Emma let her hands slide onto his shoulders, turned her head, kissed his cheek.  
"Thank you... ", she breathed against the warm skin.  
"You're welcome... ", Martin breathed back.  
Emma placed another kiss on his cheek.

Martin leaned his head back a little, smiled at Emma, eyed his new girlfriend.  
"You've really turned my head around, woman from Malta," he breathed, amorous and flirtatious.  
"You've taken my heart by storm too, man from England.", she breathed with an amorous smile.  
Martin smiled, letting his eyes dart over her face.

"Laura had been speculating that we'll fall in love... that I'll whisper in your ear at some point that I've fallen in love with you," he murmured flirtatiously and leaned towards her ear, kissing it, still not saying another word.

He could sense that she was waiting excitedly for his words even if she could already feel them inside her; he could sense what his voice and his flirting were doing to her, what they were triggering in her.  
He had her flirtatiously on the hook.  
Again, he kissed the ear, letting the warm breath brush over it.

"I have fallen in love with you, woman from Malta." he whispered the words flirtatiously and charmingly, murmuring and tenderly in her ear.

Emma felt the tingling in her body, felt the goosebumps, shivered pleasantly.  
Her heart stopped then skipped a few beats.  
She had known since the first little kiss that he had fallen in love with her, but it was something else entirely to hear it now.  
And she hadn't just heard it - Martin had whispered it in her ear with his warm nasal voice - charming, flirtatious, tender.  
She had never heard it as beautifully as from Martin.

Her lips kissed his cheek.

"Yes, Laura was speculating that we would fall in love with each other in this extraordinary way - and I'm sure she wasn't just speculating that you would whisper it to me at some point, but that I would tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you too," she murmured.

Her lips kissed his cheek again.  
Her lips kissed slowly to his ear, kissing it - her breath brushing over it.  
She was silent, keeping him excitedly in suspense too, could feel his smile against her lips - he waited excitedly yet patiently; she knew he’d also like to hear it with words, not just feeling it with his heart, tummy and head.  
Her lips kissed slowly to his cheek.  
Her lips kissed slowly to his lips - she kissed him.

She leaned her head back a little, took his face in both hands, looked deep into his eyes.  
She had to swallow - the blue sparkled and shone expectantly, waiting hopefully, amorous and dreamy.  
She held his face, smiling at him.

"I've fallen in love with you, man from England," she breathed, maintaining eye contact.

Martin blinked, blue eyes darting over her face, his lips showing a very big smile.  
The eyes darted back to hers.  
His blue looked into her brown.  
Her brown looked into his blue.  
His smile widened even more.

"She did a pretty good job, playing Cupid." Martin murmured.  
"I'm very happy she stepped in and set us up."  
"Me too."  
"I really liked being set up with you," Emma murmured. 

They beamed at each other, exchanged a kiss, rubbed their noses. 

Martin lifted his hands and laid them against her cheeks too, taking her face in his hands.  
"I know you said you didn't mind my age... and I told you I didn't mind that you were much younger. I just want you to know that I would have fallen in love with you too if you were my age, or older."  
He had felt the need to make clear that he didn't just want her because she was so much younger than him.  
Emma smiled.  
"I love that head of yours that's full of these crazy and sometimes pointless thoughts," she winked. "I haven't had,… not for a second since we met…; not for one second since we met had you made the impression you were having a mid-life crisis, that you just wanted a young woman by your side to feel younger. You've all along make me feel that this very thing is not a reason for your interest in me," she smiled lovingly. "I know you think I'm very pretty, and I think you're very attractive too - but I know that my appearance isn't the only reason you fell in love with me."  
Martin smiled at her in relief.

Emma blinked, lowered her hands, then nudged his nose with her index finger.  
"Forty-eight-year-old man from England, you wanted to make your girlfriend and yourself a coffee." she breathed in a soft and euphoric, elated and good-humoured voice.  
Martin smiled at her, had to grin.  
"Thirty-year-old woman from Malta, do you want to enjoy that coffee with your boyfriend in the garden or in the living room?"  
Their shared smirk became a shared grin.

"I'd love a coffee date in the garden - and I'd walk back on my own two feet too."

Martin nodded with a grin, leaned in, pressed a kiss to her lips, placed a kiss on her nose, caressed her forehead with a kiss too, and then he breathed a loving kiss on her temple.

He stepped back, smiled at her once more - and then he prepared everything for their coffee date together, which they would indeed enjoy with warm coffee on the terrace.


	22. Savouring Explorations

_**\- Saturday, August/08 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

01:44 - the digital alarm clock showed the current time. 

Martin sat down on his bed, sat on the edge of the bed in his T-shirt and boxers.  
Where had the time gone?  
Time had passed by pretty quickly, or so it seemed to him.  
No matter where the last few hours had gone and why they had flown by far too quickly, he had enjoyed the last few hours with Emma very much.

His heart raced fast and hard against his ribcage.  
His stomach tingled, leaving the rest of his body tingling as well. 

He was literally floating on cloud nine - and fortunately, he was not sitting on his cloud alone, but with Emma.  
For a little more than 10 hours he was floating on cloud nine with Emma. 

It was a nice feeling, a very pleasant and comforting feeling to be in love again and to be on cloud nine with someone.

He had missed closeness and affection - now Emma gave him closeness and affection.  
He had missed being in love and being loved - now he was in love and he was loved by Emma.  
He had missed feeling safe - now he felt safe with Emma.  
He had missed that togetherness - with Emma he could feel and enjoy togetherness.  
He had missed that one person in his life who was his happiness and contentment - now he had found that person; Emma.

He was no longer alone - he was together again.  
He was in love - he was allowed to give his love to Emma, and she gave him the same sincere love.  
He had a strong feeling that he had found his home, that he would be able to settle down with Emma - something he had longed for, to finally settle down and find a home.

He turned his head from the digital alarm clock to the movement he had noticed in the corner of his eye.

In the diffused light of the bedside lamp, Emma was walking towards him - she had still been in the en-suite bathroom.  
Now she was walking towards him with his navy-blue collarless shirt hanging slightly over her bottom.  
He swallowed, licked his lips, couldn't make out with his scrutinising and darting eyes whether she was still wearing panties or not.  
Her hair was loose, falling softly over her shoulders; the shirt also fell gently around her torso, the first buttons undone, giving him a glorious view but not revealing her breasts; bare slender legs, bare feet.  
Martin let his eyes dart over her appearance; he licked his lips again.  
It wasn't just the bare skin she was revealing with this outfit or the way she was walking charmingly towards him, it wasn't just the seductive expression on her face; it was above all the fact that she was wearing his shirt that made his heart almost explode, that made the butterflies fly, that made his knees weak and aroused him.  
She truly made him soften up; she truly made him weak.

He looked up at her, licked his lips again, followed her with his eyes - every single step.  
He blinked, had to admit defeat - he closed his eyes as her delicate fingers ran through his hair, as they scratched lightly and teasingly over his scalp, as they flitted breathlessly over his ear and down his neck.  
To his right and left the mattress moved, arms were wrapped around his neck, lips laid on his, a body nestled against his - she had sat down on his lap.  
It took him a few moments before he could respond to her kiss - and when he was finally ready, her lips slowly parted from his.

Blinking, he opened his eyes again, having to look up at her a little.

Emma smiled at him, let a hand wander through his short grey hair again, then placed it against his cheek.  
She leaned down, put her lips to his ear, excitedly setting his heart out of beat.  
She had him on the hook, just breathed very gentle kisses on his outer ear.  
He had closed his eyes again, swallowed - his body was tingling strongly, the lust and arousal growing immeasurably.  
He tried to calm his heart, but her seduction made it almost explode.  
Martin swallowed again, waiting for her words, unable to act himself, for her way of seducing him just made him sit overwhelmed on the edge of the bed.

"Please seduce me," she murmured in his ear in a seductive voice.

Martin's heart went crazy, as did the butterflies, and the thoughts in his head.  
She had seduced him long ago, in the twinkling of an eye, with a few gestures and a few touches; but now she was giving him the reins, now she was relinquishing her dominance, which he probably hadn't been able to fight back on his own.  
She could have done anything with him right now, but she gave up the reins.  
He had to admit, he loved it immensely - and this seductive request and giving up the reins only aroused him more. 

Emma leaned back again, still sitting on his lap.  
It was amazing what she had been able to do to him.  
It had been fun to hold the reins so dominantly, seeing what she could do to him with just a few gestures and touches - but she longed to be seduced by him.  
It brought a smile to her face to see that he could not take the reins immediately, that she had absolutely flustered him, that he needed a few moments to fulfil her wish.  
She eyed him with a smile as he took a deep breath. 

Martin looked into her eyes, licked his lips again, had to swallow again.  
He put his hand to her cheek, caressed her cheek with his thumb, caressed her lips with his thumb, glanced at her lips, then just slowly looked back up into her brown eyes - pleased to see that the brown eyes were blazing with lust and arousal, that she slowly closed her eyes with pleasure at his touch. 

He stretched his head a little, replaced his thumb with his lips, kissed her tenderly and gently, delightfully and seductively - giving her only breathy lip contact to keep her on tenterhooks, to make her desire for a kiss rise immeasurably.  
His hands caressed over her shoulders, down her back, to her bottom - feeling that she was indeed still wearing panties.  
He put his hands under her bottom - stood up with her.

With her on his arms, he spun around.  
He knelt in the bed, laid her down on the bedding, crawled over her, let his eyes dart over her body.  
He was aroused, clearly aroused; there was the desire to make love to her now and immediately, and to explore her body afterwards; but his lips, his teeth, his tongue and hands and fingers longed very much to explore this body, to caress and discover it, to savour the foreplay and then the sex.  
He couldn't resist the longing to explore – his self-control would have some work to do.

He propped himself beside her head, bent down to her, kissed her temple.  
His lips moved from her temple to her ear, kissing the outer ear; his teeth nibbled to her earlobe, his tongue brushed breathy over her outer ear. 

He was already eliciting the first lustful moan from her.

His lips kissed from her ear to her neck, sucking and tasting, exploring the soft and delicate skin. His nose drew in her scent, lips devouring her neck with tender, exploring, hungry kisses. Teeth nibbled at her neck, even biting gently, before his lips only breathed kisses on her neck that were barely to feel.

Emma squirmed under him, purring and sighing, moaning with pleasure. 

An exploratory tongue licked a wet trail across her neck.  
Lips kissed over her jaw, breathed a seductive kiss on her lips.  
His self-control had a hard time not just eating her.  
Gently, the lips kissed down to her cleavage, the fingers following caressingly. The fingers moved to the buttons of his shirt, slowly opening them while his lips and nose enjoyed her cleavage. Slowly he opened the shirt, brushing the fabric off her body.

Emma laid her head back, purring lustfully - his caresses felt fantastic. She felt his lips on her bare arms. Had she helped take off the shirt? She couldn't remember, she was too busy enjoying Martin and his caresses, and the feelings he was causing in her body.

Martin's lips kissed not only Emma's right arm but also her left arm, but he spread longing and exploring kisses not only on her arms but also on her hands and fingers - he didn't miss a millimetre.  
Loud moans of pleasure sounded in his ears as his right hand gently massaged her left breast and his tongue licked over her right nipple, his teeth nibbling at it and his lips fondling it with a kiss.  
His heart was beating fast, his body was tingling, his erection was telling him that he didn't want to savour the foreplay any longer, but his hands and fingers, his tongue and teeth, the lips were telling him that they wanted to explore her body - every millimetre of it.  
He just had to try to stop thinking about how incredibly aroused he was - but that wasn't so easy, because he felt the erection very clearly, tingling and throbbing, he was reminded of it again and again.

He sighed, enjoying caressing her breasts, enjoying feeling her tender and young skin under his fingers and hands, under his lips.  
She tasted fantastic.  
She sounded fantastic.  
She looked breathtakingly beautiful.  
She felt breathtakingly amazing.  
He sighed again, letting a hand brush over her belly, guiding it to his erection, but before he even touched himself and gave in to the urge and temptation, he resisted.

He sat up, pulled his T-shirt over his head, looked down at Emma.  
He swallowed, licked his lips - damn, she was more than just stunningly beautiful.  
He gave her a smile as she looked up, her brown eyes imploring him to continue his exploration.  
He winked charmingly at her, leaned down, breathed a kiss on her temple, breathed a kiss on her ear - he felt her hands on his body; right hand in his hair, left hand on his bare back. 

"You are breathtakingly beautiful." he murmured, kissing her ear again, breathy. "That was a big fat downplaying lie," he flirted. 

He had to shiver pleasantly, goosebumps had spread as her fingertips and fingernails nuzzled his back. 

"I'm afraid I can't find the right words to express how attractive you are - no words seem to adequately describe how handsome and gorgeous you are," she murmured flirtatiously. "It is breathtaking to fully understand now how you prefer to eat your cake," her voice flirted again, she was even winking.

A soft smile had settled on his lips; it was nice to be perceived as attractive by her.  
Her second comment made him grin and smirk, almost laugh. 

He bit her earlobe affectionately.  
"I love flirting with you," he murmured.  
He kissed her ear, felt her smile and smirk, then heard the pleasurable sigh again.

His lips travelled down her body again.  
He caressed her with his lips, with his tongue, with his teeth, tickled her belly with his fingers.  
His teeth nibbled at her belly, his lips sucked at the tender skin, his hand disappeared seductively into her panties.

She adjusted her legs, thighs trembling slightly; her hands slid into his grey hair, fingers playing with the strands, but also gripping with a moan.  
She felt his fingers, felt the fingers tenderly and delightfully seducing her, arousing her more and more. 

Again, his teeth bit gently into the tender skin of her belly. 

"I'm nowhere near finished exploring your body…" he murmured as his fingers felt quite clearly how aroused and wet she was.

Emma swallowed, licking her lips - she clutched at his hair, the voice and his statement nearly pushing her over the edge, and she was sure he knew exactly what he was doing with that statement and that voice.  
She could sense that he was deliberately arousing her more and more, that he wanted to have her on the edge, that he wanted to hear her beg and plead.  
She liked the way he seduced her very much - and she had to confess that no man had ever seduced her in such a fantastic and talented way.  
His touches were a dream.

Martin let his fingers play - breathy, intense, seductive, arousing. He enjoyed her arousal, letting the fingers penetrate her as he played with her.  
She felt fantastic, he could hardly wait to make love to her.  
He played with her pleasurable, kissing her belly.  
Slowly he let his hand slip out of her panties, his girlfriend's slender thighs trembling a lot.

Again, he sat up, looked down at her, let his hands wander to her panties - he brushed them off her hips, wiped them off the bed like the shirt. 

Again, he leaned down, devouring her lips, kissing her demanding and hungry, but the kiss was still slow and savouring.  
He sighed into the kiss, heard her moan into it.  
His teeth captured her lower lips for a moment before his lips wandered and explored again.

Over her cheek, down onto her neck, over her right collarbone, down her arm, along her fingers, kissing her palm.  
Up her arm again, over her cleavage, over her left collarbone, down her left arm, along her fingers, kissing the palm.  
Up her arm again, over her cleavage, to her breasts, caressing the breasts, down to her belly - down and down. 

Emma gripped his grey hair excitedly as his seductive kisses arrived between her legs.  
Her heart pounded excitedly and thrillingly against her ribcage, her whole body tingled in ecstasy.  
She felt his kisses, she felt him sucking; she felt the careful nibbling; the seductive tongue not only tickled and tasted her but invaded her like the fingers before.  
She moaned and purred, sighed and pleaded. 

Martin's ears listened to her sounds, enjoyed them.  
His mouth enjoyed its play, enjoyed tasting her intimately.  
Again, his hand wandered to his erection, but he resisted again, knowing he was far too aroused to just fondle himself delightfully while he enjoyed Emma with his lips, tongue and teeth. 

He held her on the edge, giving her enough to moan and plead, not giving her enough to climax.  
He wanted to feel her first climax during sex.

He could still hear her pleading and begging - wanting what he craved just as much. 

Slowly he sat up - if his own self-control weren't about to go down the drain, he could have enjoyed and savoured this exploration of her body with his fingers and hands, with his tongue and teeth and lips for hours more.  
He slipped out of his boxers, wiped it off the bed as well.

And then he leaned down to her again. 

His lips hungrily devoured Emma's lips; Emma's legs were wrapped around his hips, one hand was buried in his hair; he was holding the other hand tightly - they both sought support; intertwining fingers.

They stopped the kiss, both moaning with pleasure as Martin penetrated her.  
They looked at each other with lust-haunted eyes, leaning their foreheads against each other for a moment, but then they devoured their lips again lustfully and hungrily. 

Hungrily and longingly, they made love, enjoying the passion, the longing and the desire for each other for a few moments.  
Martin did not let go of her hand, felt her other hand in his hair - she grabbed the strands, played with them, tangled his hair. 

Hungry and longing, with passion and desire, they pleasured each other to the edge of their climax.

Panting, they stopped the kiss - not for the first time.  
The lips were red and swollen; the eyes looked at each other lustfully and desiring, aroused and hungry.

The rhythm changed, the look in their eyes as well.  
They looked into each other's eyes lovestruck and dreamy, happy and overwhelmed; the rhythm was no longer hungry and passionate, it was slow and savouring.

Their eyes studied each other.  
Blue eyed brown.  
Brown eyed blue.  
Their eyes told the feelings they had for each other. 

Emma couldn't take her eyes off him; she gazed at him, letting her hand run through his hair, playing very tenderly with the individual grey strands.  
A smile appeared on her lips.  
A smile appeared on Martin's lips.  
He looked deep into her eyes; he was savouring every second, loving her tenderly and gently. 

Their smile grew - it became a beam on both their faces.

They were both very close to orgasm that all they had to do was to let go, but neither of them wanted to let go.

Martin breathed a kiss on her lips, let the tip of his nose circle her nose, leaned his forehead against hers for a moment, then kissed her temple. 

Emma swallowed, touched by the gentleness and intimacy; her hand ran through Martin's hair, her other hand squeezed Martin's hand gently, her thumb caressed the back of his hand. 

Tasting and enjoying each other, neither of them was willing to end this physical closeness with an orgasm for the time being - but it was getting harder and harder to maintain self-control.

Tenderly and trusting they gave themselves to the other.  
Comfortably they kissed each other again, kissed each other enamoured and dreamily, clearly communicating how much they were in love with the other. 

They squeezed their hands, holding on to the other more and more, they could feel that they both could hardly stand it any longer.  
Their bodies tingled, they sweated.  
They purred and sighed into their little kisses.

Their hands gripped each other more and more. 

As much as he wanted to savour making love with her even longer, he just couldn't maintain his self-control any longer.  
His lips seduced Emma into a kiss, who herself had lost the battle against her self-control.

They climaxed, holding each other, seeking support from the other, still making love while enjoying the orgasm they were experiencing together; enjoying the tingling and the racing of their hearts, the tingling of their stomachs and the satisfaction of their needs.

They savoured every single second, hardly letting go of each other. 

Relaxation rushed through their bodies - relaxation and a satisfying tingling.  
Martin's body sank completely onto Emma; he snuggled against and on top of her, cuddling closer.  
Emma's body sank deep into the mattress, her arm wrapped around Martin; the fingers of her other hand still entwined with Martin's.  
Relaxation and security rushed through her body.

A smile settled on both their faces and their minds thought the same thing:  
They were both thinking back to the sex they had just experienced; their first time together.  
The smiles on their faces stretched dreamily to their ears.


	23. Sun Lounger Cuddles

_**\- Tuesday, August/11 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

A deep savouring breath.  
A smile on the lips.  
Closed eyes.

Martin was lounging on a sun lounger, comfortable on the navy-blue cushion. His back was leaning against the backrest, which showed a little angle; he stretched out his legs, his arms were crossed behind his head.  
The T-shirt had slipped up a little, showing bare skin; the shorts showed partially bare thighs, bare knees and shins; the feet were also bare.  
The sun was shining on him. 

Happiness rushed through every vein and fibre of his body.  
He felt happy all around, felt like he was on top of the world.  
Emma was the reason why pure and intense happiness rushed through his body.  
Belly tingles sent goosebumps all over his body, even though he was lolling in the sun.  
Not only did he feel all-round happy; he felt all-round comfortable, very loved, snugly, accepted and respected, carefree and elated, blithe and energetic.  
With Emma he could be himself quite easily and without any restraint - just himself, just Martin.  
Deep down he had felt from the very first moment that he could trust her unconditionally - he didn't know where this feeling had come from, but it had been deep inside him when he had seen her for the very first time.  
With her, not only his longings were satisfied, with her his wishes were fulfilled, with her everything he needed and missed had entered his life.  
He was head over heels in love with Emma.

Startled, he sucked in the air deeply, let it escape with a gasp.

"Whew..."

Emma had jumped on the sun lounger, had literally jumped on him. 

She had been lying on the sun lounger next to him until a few minutes ago, but then she had gone into the kitchen to refill the glasses - actually he had wanted to do it, but she had told him that he didn't always have to go for her, that she could also go to refill the glasses with home-made lemonade.

He hadn't even heard her coming back - deep in his reverie about her, deep in his happiness. 

Emma snuggled up on Martin's body, wearing only a top and hot pants - August was really doing a great job for Londoners.  
She snuggled her face into the crook of his neck, perceived his scent, closed her eyes.  
Her heart immediately skipped a few beats.

Martin wrapped his arms around Emma's neck, cuddling her in a loving hug. He loved that she was constantly sitting on his lap, that she wasn’t only snuggling up against him but also on him, that she sought closeness.  
He pressed a kiss into her hair. 

"I didn't hear you coming... " he murmured into her hair. 

Emma pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck, leaned her head back a little, giving him some shade.  
She smiled down at him, breathed a kiss on his lips.

"I noticed that," she winked, and breathed another kiss on his lips. 

Martin smiled up at Emma; his left hand gently caressed her back, while the fingers of his right hand brushed the light brown strands behind her ear.  
Gently the fingers caressed her ear, gently the hand rested against her cheek.  
The eyes looked deep into hers, looked deep into the warm brown.  
He pursed his lips, waiting for her kiss.

With relish, he closed his eyes as he felt her lips on his.  
He joined her kiss, caressed her lips as her lips caressed his. 

Emma snuggled closer to his body, enjoying feeling him, enjoying the warmth of his body.  
Gently, she caressed his lips, kissed him lovingly and tenderly, enjoying the softness with which he returned her kiss.  
She felt his caressing hand on her back, felt his stroking thumb on her cheek, enjoyed the touches and little caresses and fondles.  
She couldn’t get enough of kissing him - his soft slightly rough lips just tasted too good, just felt fantastic, were able to kiss too wonderfully, to kiss her breathless.  
She purred against Martin's lips as the kiss paused for a moment.

The tips of their noses nudged each other.

Little kisses met their lips.  
Sometimes firm, sometimes soft  
Sometimes gentle, sometimes tender.  
Sometimes rough, sometimes hungry.  
Little kisses were enjoyed with relish.

A smile on their lips; the tips of their noses danced with each other, played with each other.

"Oh Emma... ", Martin sighed in a warm voice.  
"It's just lovely to be with you," Emma murmured.  
"Hmph, it's very lovely to be with you," Martin breathed.

Martin’s hand wandered from Emma's back to her bottom, gripping it gently, massaging it softly and without ulterior motives; his lips were seducing and tempting her for another soulful and intimate kiss. 

The kiss was reciprocated, picked up speed quite quickly, deepened passionately.  
Their tongues danced, they purred and sighed into the kiss, snuggled even closer.  
They kissed passionately and hungrily - and while Martin's hand was still massaging Emma's luscious bum, he felt her hand in his hair.

Gently, Emma's fingers of the right hand caressed along his arm; fingertips caressing the bare skin on his stomach, sneaking underneath his T-shirt; her fingertips were feeling his warm bare skin.  
Tenderly, Martin's right hand wandered to her lower back, then sneaked inside the hot pants, was even sneaking into her panties - he placed his hand on her bare luscious bum. 

They sighed, deepened the passionate and hungry kiss again, which slowly lost passion and hunger but gained tenderness and love.  
Their tongues danced tenderly and lovingly; the kiss spoke clearly that it was not about sexual seduction, but about just feeling and touching the other. 

Goosebumps under Emma’s fingertips.  
Goosebumps under Martin’s hand. 

Their kiss paused; lips red and swollen.

Emma’s arm slipped under Martin's back, felt the bare skin, had pushed the T-shirt up quite far; she cuddled up to him, nuzzled her face against the crook of his neck, bit gently into the tender skin.

Martin swallowed, licked his lips, still feeling her firm and luscious butt under his hand. He enjoyed her nuzzling and snuggling, enjoyed the bite into his neck.  
But he did not enjoy it at all that Emma broke apart right after her very warm and loving embrace, that she seriously just sat up.

"Please stay." he breathed.  
"I didn't want to leave," she smiled.  
"But you want to lie down on the other sun lounger." he murmured, pushing her down again.  
"And you want me to stay with you? Here on your lounger?" she smiled.  
"I would like that very much."  
"Me too."  
"Then why did you want to change to your sun lounger?" he asked with a smile.  
"I thought it might be too much snuggling for you."  
"Not at all," he breathed. "Please stay." he begged her again.

Emma leaned down, breathed a kiss on Martin's temple, let her hand and arm wander beneath Martin’s T-shirt again, wrapped her arm around him again, snuggled up against him - still feeling his warm hand on her bare bum.  
She snuggled up into his warm and protective, loving and possessive one-armed embrace, closing her eyes.

"Do you always cuddle and snuggle as much as you have the last few days?" asked Emma softly.

Martin nestled his cheek on her head, caressed her bare bum with his fingertips, but let his hand wander out of her panties and hot pants. The hand wandered beneath her loose shirt, fingertips tickling the bare skin. 

"Is it better if I say yes or no?" he asked a counter question.

Emma smiled against the crook of Martin's neck - kissing the skin, nibbling it briefly, kissing the soft skin again, feeling the goose bumps on every millimetre of his body.

"I don't want to answer that question," she breathed against the crook of Martin's neck. "I don't want you to choose an answer just to please me, just to say what I want to hear. I don't want to influence you, I just like to hear your feelings and your truth about it," she breathed softly.

Martin's heart stopped, then pounded violently against his own and Emma's chest - once again she made it very clear to him that she wanted him to be just himself, that she wanted him just the way he was, with all his quirks and preferences, with all his opinions and values, with all that he liked or disliked, with all that he stood for.  
Ever since he knew her, she had been giving him exactly this feeling.  
She wanted him to be just Martin; he was allowed to be just Martin with her, without running the risk that she would change him or bending him into shape, like Amanda and also Jeanne had tried it over and over again; and to be fair the girlfriends he had had before Amanda too.  
Emma was actually the first one who didn't want to change him or bend him into shape, who just wanted him - the real him without any restraint or any bending and changing.

"Thank you for not answering my question." he breathed, then kissed her hair. "It's lovely that you want my opinion on this and don't expect me to say what you wish I would. Thank you for that.", he breathed again very gently, kissing her hair again too. "To your question;...I love to cuddle and snuggle. I love it after I wake up, during the day, in the evening on the couch, when I go to bed, when I sleep. I really love to cuddle and snuggle, but I don't have to snuggle and cuddle during every opportunity; sometimes it’s alright not to cuddle or snuggle, sometimes it's enough for me just to feel the closeness without cuddling and snuggling; sometimes I'm not in the mood for it - but in general I love to cuddle and snuggle a lot," he told her what he was feeling.

"I don't want a man at my side who is pretending something for me or who I have to change or bend. I want an authentic relationship where everyone can just be who they are. If all you ever do is bend and change, then maybe it's better to look for someone who suits you better," she breathed lovingly. "Compromise is different, but that's where you approach each other authentically, changing and bending isn't," she murmured softly, kissing the crook of his neck. "I love what you said... a lot! I also like cuddling and snuggling incredibly, especially extensively. But I'm not a leech either," she smirked.  
She felt a kiss on her hair.  
"I agree with you - unfortunately not everyone sees it that way. But it's enough for me if you see it that way.", he breathed softly and pressed another kiss on her hair. "I think right now you're a mind-blogging leech.", he grinned.

Martin heard and felt Emma laughing against his neck, then felt her teasing, punishing and naughty bite into his neck.  
Goosebumps spread all over his body.  
The teeth had pinched but had given him a very nice feeling most of all.

"I must make provision for a possible lean period. Besides, my dear, you're a leech beyond believe right now too, a rather possessive leech - and I love it," she purred flirtatiously against his neck.  
Martin's fingertips wandered over Emma's back, caressing, giving her goosebumps all the while. His hand slipped into her hot pants and panties again, gripping her bare bottom possessively - he heard her purr.  
"I have to take care, my love, for I don't want to lose you right away.” he breathed into her hair. 

Emma smiled, savouring his closeness, loving his warm hand on her bare bottom, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin too.  
Lightly, she raised her head, kissed the cheek, kissed the chin, kissed the lips.  
She looked down at him, smiled at him.

"It's lovely that you're taking care of me. I'd love to take care of you too. May I?"  
"It would be very perfect if you would take care of me."

Emma smiled, breathed a kiss on his nose, one on his forehead, one on his temple, the next on his ear, then one on his cheek, finally one on his lips. 

"I'll take very good care of you," she breathed.

Slowly, Martin opened his eyes again - not only could he hear and feel his heart rumbling, he was also very aware of her rumbling heart.

"And I will take very good care of you," breathed his nasal voice.

Smiling, they looked at each other, letting their noses nudge against each other, letting the tips of their noses dance. 

Martin closed his eyes again - pure happiness still flowing through his body.  
What did he care that paparazzi had taken photos of him and Emma a few days ago.  
What did he care that the press were racking their brains as to who the mysterious woman at his side had been.  
He didn't care - for the first time he actually didn't care at all that paparazzi pictures of him were circulating.

He was just flooded with pure happiness, on cloud nine, completely satisfied with himself and his life, with the new love by his side - he just wanted to enjoy.


	24. Campfire Romance

_**\- Thursday, August/13 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

It had become late.  
It had become dark.

It was 10:01 pm.

A fire crackled and blazed in the fire bowl.  
It gave warmth in the balmy summer night, gave romance, made it crackle even more between the two lovers.

Martin and Emma sat on cosy, low wooden garden chairs in front of the campfire - it had been romantic crackling between them since Emma's arrival almost a fortnight ago.  
But for almost a week now, it had been sizzling intensely and on a completely different level between the two lovers.  
Together they were probably floating on the fluffiest cloud nine you could find. 

It would only be tomorrow that their relationship would have lasted a week, but they could already feel very clearly that they were in perfect harmony, that they didn't have to do much more than just being themselves and enjoy being in love.  
But they had also harmonised very well with each other during their amorous friendship.

By getting to know each other in an extraordinary way, they had probably learned much more about each other than under normal circumstances, because by getting to know each other in this very extraordinary time, they had been able to see how the other reacted to special and difficult times, how they dealt with what these times made of them; they had been able to realise that they functioned at a distance, that distance could not harm them, that they both made the best of it instead of complaining about the distance and the impossibility of a visit.  
And here, here together in London, they had found that they not only functioned at a distance, but that it also functioned amazingly naturally up close, on a daily basis - it harmonised quite naturally; the deep and magical bond could be felt not only through the constant romantic crackling between them. 

Everyday life functioned and harmonised as if they had been living together for years.  
They did not yet know all the secrets, quirks and behaviours of each other, and yet it was as if they knew exactly how to be with each other in different situations.  
They balanced each other out, they complemented each other, through the other they got what they were missing. 

It harmonised and they enjoyed it extremely.  
The love for each other was deep and unconditional in the still very fresh and young relationship.

They sat at their campfire, enjoying a romantic evening with Maltese wine, marshmallows and English gin. 

Actually, it was crazy that they were sitting around a campfire during a heatwave, but the romantic side of the campfire had attracted them very much.

Together they had already enjoyed a gin tonic, several marshmallows and a glass of wine - Emma had brought the wine from Malta, but they had only opened the bottle tonight. 

Emma leaned over to Martin, pressed a kiss to his cheek.  
Martin smiled dreamily and lovestruck into the blazing fire, holding the newly filled wine glass in his left hand, his right hand resting on the armrest of the garden chair - he felt Emma place her hand on his.  
Emma pressed a second kiss to Martin's cheek, smiling against the three-day-beard. 

Martin turned his head to Emma, pressed a kiss to her nose, then nudged her nose with the tip of his nose, then he stole a kiss.  
He winked at her charmingly, flirtatiously.  
He stole a second kiss from his smiling new girlfriend.  
Turning his hand on the armrest, he entwined his fingers with hers.  
He lifted his hand and hers, kissed the back of her hand, looked deep into her eyes. 

"I love you, Emma." the nasal voice breathed very warmly and calmly - for the first time these words left his mouth in exactly that order. 

Emma looked into the blue eyes that lay calmly on her, beaming at her dreamily and enamoured. A shiver ran down her spine; the heart raced so fast that she could hear it rushing in her ears; the butterflies were partying wildly.  
He had already told her in many words that he was in love with her; he had already shown her that he was in love with her with many gestures. Hearing those three words in such a warm and calm voice overwhelmed her - plus that gesture of kissing her hand in combination with the intense eye contact.  
She shivered pleasantly.

She looked at him softly, raised her free hand, caressed the side of his head, looked deep into his blue eyes, let her hand slide to the back of his neck. She pressed her hand and his to her chest, nestling his hand against her breast, letting him feel her rapid heartbeat.

"And I love you, Martin." she breathed in a soft feminine voice - also very warm and quiet.

Martin blinked, swallowed, felt the goose bumps all over his body - he too had to shiver. Hearing that declaration of love from her was overwhelmingly beautiful; hearing those special words coming out of her mouth while he felt her heartbeat, while she looked intensely into his eyes, while she gently nuzzled his neck, was breathtaking.  
He blinked again, then leaned over the arm of his garden chair, devouring her lips for a brief intense kiss.

"God, I love you, Em." he repeated his declaration of love euphorically, touched, lovestruck and with a nasal murmur - he had murmured it right against her lips. 

Emma had her eyes closed, leaning her forehead against his.  
She smiled, loved his pet name, loved this renewed declaration of love.  
The butterflies danced and celebrated, the heart was going crazy, the knees were soft.  
She felt the romantic crackle, felt it crackling very intensely and romantically between them.  
She pressed their entwined hands even more against her chest, let her other hand brush into his hair at the back of his head, showed him with a loving kiss how much he meant to her, how much she loved him, how important he was to her. 

Goosebumps spread over Martin's body again, he shivered again, returned her kiss.  
His head, his stomach, his heart, they all told him very clearly that he had done everything right, that this extraordinary woman was the one, that one, the right one – the love of his life.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shared laughter resounded through the garden.  
They had emptied the bottle of wine.  
The campfire was still blazing and crackling just as strongly as the love and affection between Martin and Emma.  
Shared laughter resounded through the garden.  
A new bottle of wine had been opened - one from Martin's bar.  
A few marshmallows were still in the bag - they had enjoyed the sweet snack between their kissing and flirting.  
Shared laughter resounded through the garden.

It was 11:52 pm.

"Come on, ħanini.", Emma called him darling again, had taught him the Maltese word half an hour ago. "Why did you mention it if you're not going to get it now? Don’t make such a fuss." she laughed.  
"I never intended to get it, Em!" he laughed. "We were just talking about absurd gifts."  
"You've that gift for almost a year now," Emma grinned. "I'm sure Simon would be delighted when it finally is used. And it could be very exciting, making the evening even… hotter." she grinned - enjoying the warmth of the campfire, even if the summer night was still nice and mild and balmy.  
"You won't give up now, will you?" grinned Martin.  
"Don't pretend you weren't hoping that I'd want to play this game," Emma smirked.  
"You little minx! You caught me!" he smirked. He put his wine glass down and stood up, pointing his finger down at her. "The first thing you’ll pick is dare."

Emma laughed and glanced after him, for Martin was already walking towards the house. 

Waiting, she sat in the garden chair, looking into the fire with a grin.  
She was very excited - she had caught Martin’s motive immediately; of course, he had mentioned that absurd birthday present Simon had given him last year to seduce her, to heat up the evening after a bottle of wine, lots of marshmallows and two Gin Tonics.  
Truth or Dare - in a very special adult version.  
According to Martin, Simon had given him this game as an extra fun gift, with the words: 'For hot hours with your next girlfriend'.  
Emma grinned.  
She licked her lips - of course, she wanted to play this game with Martin, and she had absolutely nothing against choosing Dare as her first pick. 

Martin walked towards her a few minutes later, kissed the top of her head and sat back down in his garden chair - he put the game on his lap.

"You haven't even unwrapped it yet," Emma said as Martin opened the lid and she could see the decks still wrapped.  
"I was single last year... I just put it in the cupboard," he shrugged and grinned. "Now it's going to be even more exciting." he said, unwrapping two decks of cards. "So, my dear, you’ll begin." he grinned.  
"You're acting as if I've forced you, when it was you who told this story so we would play it!" she laughed  
"You're going to begin anyway," Martin grinned. "Like you said... don't make such a fuss," he smirked, just holding one of the decks to her.

Emma laughed, could sense that they were both drunk a little bit.  
She took the first card, turned it around and read the text on it.  
She put the card in the grass, stood up, took the box from Martin's hand, put it in the grass too.  
She sat down on his lap, looked at him with carnal desire and sexual lust.  
Emma looked into Martin's face, who had raised an eyebrow. 

Emma licked her lips, felt Martin's hands on her hips.  
She leaned down to him, kissed his forehead, let her lips brush to his temple, kissed it.  
Her lips kissed his temple a second time, kissed to his cheek, from cheek to ear.  
She kissed his ear, heard Martin purr, heard him sigh as she kissed his neck delightfully, teasingly.  
She felt his quickening heartbeat.  
Her lips kissed his neck, kissed across his jaw and down his chin.

"Emma... ", he murmured - trying to steal a kiss as she kissed very close to the corner of his mouth.

"The card... " she murmured, kissing his cheek. "... said I... " she murmured and kissed his nose. "... shall kiss your face and neck... ", she murmured and kissed his temple again lovingly. "... kisses on the mouth are forbidden the card told me.", she whispered in his ear before kissing it tenderly. "I love you, darling. I love you so much", she whispered in his ear. "Pick the next card so I can finally kiss these delicious lips of yours."

Slowly she stood up, kissed his head, sat back in her chair, handed him the box of cards - she smiled, let her hand caress his cheek, ran her hand through his hair. 

Martin licked his lips, felt goosebumps on his body - he loved the intense romantic crackling between them, loved that despite the rising eroticism it was still very romantic at the campfire.  
He picked a card, glanced at Emma.

"I have a card, now you can kiss me," he said, even before reading the text on the card.

Emma smiled, leaned towards him, breathed a kiss on his lips, which he returned longingly.  
She kissed his lips, kissed the right corner of his mouth, kissed his nose.  
Lightly she leaned back, caressed his three-day beard gently. 

The blue in Martin's eyes was shining at Emma; it sparkled amorously, sparkled lustily, sparkled romantically.  
He leaned back a little too, grabbed his wine glass that was still standing on the grass, sipped it, then read the text on the card.  
He put the glass back on the ground.

"That’s a fucking awesome card," he smiled and stood up. "Kiss your partner passionately." he said charmingly. He knelt down on the grass, kneeling in front of the garden chair Emma was sitting in, feeling the warmth of the campfire on his back. 

Emma leaned forward, smiling, feeling his hands on her cheeks.  
Martin stretched towards her, closed his eyes, gently but teasingly bit her lower lip, gently sucked on it, tempting her into a passionate kiss. 

The tongue licked over her lip, nudged her tongue, engaged her in a passionate dance.  
A hand fondled the back of Emma's neck, caressed into her soft hair, gripped gently - the warmth of the fire crawling up his back and down his neck.  
His ears picked up her intense purring; he liked that sound.  
His heart raced faster, his tummy tingled; he loved kissing her - and it was especially beautiful to feel her lips intensely and passionately on his, after she had teasingly and delightfully kissed him everywhere but on his lips.  
A purring murmur escaped his throat - her hands were buried in his hair at the back of his head. 

Shortness of breath made them reluctantly end the kiss. 

Martin licked his lips, looked up at Emma with moist lips.  
"We should take a little pause from Dare, otherwise we're about to have sex at the campfire, no matter what the next card says," he murmured in a voice tinged with lust and arousal, desire and sensualism.  
"Not that I’d mind that prospect," she murmured in a lusty and soulful voice. "But we should still go back to the questions for a round or two."  
Martin licked his lips again.

He remained kneeling in front of her, grabbed a card, handed it to Emma - and then he grabbed his marshmallow skewer, speared one of the white fluffy marshmallows, turned around in the grass, leaned against Emma's legs.  
Sitting cross-legged in front of her, he gazed into the fire, holding the sweet marshmallow into it. 

Emma smiled down at him, gently tousled his grey hair, but by gently caressing it, she straightened it again.  
Her eyes lowered to the card; she read the question.

"Seven days ago.", Emma answered the question she had read.

Martin put his head back, looked up at Emma, saw her grinning - he had to grin too.  
"Could you also read the question to it, so I know what your answer is about."  
"You're too curious." she grinned, raising her arm and hand as he grinned and grabbed after the card.  
"That's not how the game works, Em!" he laughed. "Give me the card or read out the question, you little cheat!" he was still laughing.  
"You better check your marshmallow, ħanini," she grinned.  
Martin grinned, looked to the fire again, pulled the marshmallow out of the fire. 

Carefully he blew it, enjoying the campfire, the romantic evening, the closeness to Emma.  
It really was a great evening, a great night - and he loved that despite the romance, it was now getting some eroticism.

"When was the last time you masturbated?", Emma read out the question.

Martin bit off the marshmallow, thought about the question, counting back, chewed as he did so - swallowed.  
"That was the day before we kissed," he noted.  
"After our amazing cocking-cinema-date, you just flirted too charmingly with me on the terrace over gin tonic and whisky.” she murmured. "During the shower,… before going to bed, I couldn't hold back the arousal any longer."  
Martin smiled.  
"I can do something like that with my charming flirting?"  
"You can." breathed Emma.  
Martin took another bite of the marshmallow, chewed and swallowed - then put his head back.

"I would have answered 'seven days ago' too," he frankly admitted. "In bed,… in the morning. I dreamt about you,… the dream had been a bit too hot."  
"So, you dream about me?" smiled Emma.  
"Often,... but not always hot and arousing," Martin winked.  
His hand reached out to the box, he too took a card with a question on it.  
"You're often in my dreams too - and sometimes those dreams are very erotic," she breathed, gently playing with his hair as she gazed into the fire. 

She enjoyed the nuzzling against her legs, liked him sitting in front of her, had loved him kneeling in front of her for the passionate kiss.  
She was enjoying the very romantic night in front of the campfire, liked that they were now heating it up.

"Have you ever been caught having sex?", Martin read out the question written on his card. 

Emma took her wine glass, sipped it, held it in her hand, looked down at Martin's grey hair.  
Martin also took his wine, sipped it too, looked into the fire.

"Yes - when I was twenty-two."

He closed his eyes as Emma's fingers played with his strands of hair.

"I'd like to have more information on that. Oh God,... my answer would have been ‘No’ – luckily."  
"I would have preferred to answer with ‘No’, too," Martin said. "It happened during a stag night, or rather after the party. It was Lamar's stag night. We were in France, for a week - Lamar is French by birth."  
"Yes, I knew that,…that he is French, I mean. He told me that when I met your sister and him," she smiled. "Did he catch you having sex?" smirked Emma.  
"Yes, it was Lamar," Martin nodded. "We were on holiday in France with other friends and at the end we celebrated Lamar's bachelor party. We were partying, had a lot of drinks, we all went back to the hotel more or less on our own. Lamar's room and mine had a passage door, which meant he could get into my room and I could get into his. He was the last one to come back... and he wanted to have a last drink with me. I forgot to lock that door - he came into my room."  
"Where you've just been heavily busy with a woman you met while partying," Emma grinned guessing. "It's amusing, but I also feel sorry for you."  
"With two women." admitted Martin honestly. "Lamar caught me during the only threesome of my life."  
"Oh! Jesus! That story is even getting hotter," she said charmingly. "Did you still enjoy the threesome afterwards, or was it over after he caught the three of you?"  
"We didn't even realise he'd popped in - he told me about it the next day. The fun was still up all night long. It was my only threesome and the only one-night stand so far."  
"Were you worried about getting caught again?"  
"No,... it's just nicer to have sex with someone you love. Don’t get me wrong, the threesome was an amazing, fun and pleasurable experience, but nothing more - I had flirted with one of the two women, but she sort of offered me the threesome with her friend; I was young and wanted to try it. What can I say, the night was really great, but it's much nicer to enjoy sex with the person you've given your heart to, with the person you love," he told Emma.

Eyes still closed, he enjoyed Emma's playing in his hair - it was nice to be able to talk to her so openly after such a short time in this still fresh and young relationship.

"It kind of turns me on knowing you had a threesome with two French girls when you were 22," Emma murmured. "Give me one of those Dare cards, ħanini," she said charmingly, flirtatiously.

Martin swallowed, licked his lips - he turned his head to the side, grabbed one of the Dare cards, handed it to Emma.  
The heart pounded fast, the blood wandered to deeper regions.  
He could still feel the romantic crackle between them, but now it was also very erotic – the questions didn’t give them a pause, the questions made it even more erotic and sensual.

Emma leaned forward, bent down to Martin's ear.  
Her lips did not touch it, but hovered lightly over the auricle, her breath brushing his ear.  
Her voice sounded charming and flirtatious, murmuring and delicate, innocent yet at the same time deliberately charming and seductive.  
She did not touch him - only her shins served as a backrest.

"It's wonderful to be able to talk to you so openly; it's great that we can also talk about these intimate experiences and preferences and everything that goes with it quite openly and honestly," she murmured. "And it's even lovelier to live out this intimacy with you. Sex with you is fantastic; sharing an orgasm with you is breathtaking. Your voice alone can arouse me to the point of no return - but then there are your lips, your tongue, your teeth and your hands that can do incredible things to me too. I love feeling you." she murmured charmingly and flirtatiously, whispering, still not touching his ear with her lips. "... All over my body, inside me, very close to me.", she purred. "Tasting and enjoying, passionate, rough, wild and dominant.", she purred. "Just thinking about sex with you turns me on very much. You are an excellent, soulful and sensual lover." she whispered in his ear. "Just thinking about it,... your lips sucking on my neck; your tongue leaving a hot trail on my body; your teeth nibbling and biting me; your hands sneaking into my panties; your finger able to feel how aroused I am because of you." she purred. "Oh, and I love seducing you; hearing you purr and sigh and moan; exploring your body; I love tasting your body with my lips and tongue, feeling it with my hands and fingers, teasing and exploring you with my teeth." she murmured delightfully and seductively. "Do you remember this morning?" she asked, purring innocently; alluding to herself disappearing under the covers, alluding to the blowjob she had given him right after he had woken up this morning. 

Emma looked down at Martin, glancing to his crotch - the erection clearly visible as a bulge in his trousers.  
"The card told me to arouse you with nothing more than my voice," she murmured, now kissing his ear.  
Martin swallowed, clutching his wine glass - he was aroused, he was very much aroused, and her compliments had touched him deeply, had given him a very good feeling.  
"You... ... ... succeeded." murmured Martin; he licked his lips again, swallowed again. "As you can probably see…” he licked his lips again, swallowed again – he felt very much aroused and hot. “I hope the text card will tell me to have sex with you - no matter how."  
Emma laughed softly against his ear - a sound that sent a shiver down Martin's spine. 

He turned his head around, stretched his head up, murmured against Emma's lips.  
"Do I have to pick a card?" he asked, almost desperately.  
Emma giggled against his lips.  
"You can make up a dare too," she murmured.  
Martin kissed her lips, gently biting her lower lip.  
"Good... " he said impatiently. "Seduce Emma and make love to her at the campfire." he murmured against her lips. "Oh, I've been lucky! Just what I wished for.", Martin said enthusiastically, as if he hadn't thought up the words himself.  
He turned around on the spot, kneeling in front of Emma again. 

Emma looked at him with a grin, her hand was running through his hair - she was very aroused herself, but his impatience and the little game amused her.

Martin looked up with trusty and loyal eyes, but the blue blazed with lust and sensualness too.  
He licked his lips, had to grin himself for a moment at his nonsense and her smirk.  
He let his eyes dart over her as if considering where to start seducing her.  
His eyes almost undressed her with their gaze.  
He licked his lips again.

His hands settled on her knees, fingertips caressing gossamer over bare thighs, caressing gossamer upwards until he felt the hot pants.  
The fingertips caressed the bare skin, caressed the thighs down to her knees.  
His hands went to her knees, rested on the inside of her knees.

The blue still gazed into the blazing brown.

He felt the warmth of the fire against his back and neck again.

His hands pushed her thighs apart.  
He lowered his head.  
His lips touched her bare knees, kissed the tender young skin on the inside of her thighs - he didn't stop at the hot pants either, getting closer and closer to her centre of pleasure.

They felt the eroticism and lust crackling between them.  
They felt the love and affection crackling between them.  
They felt the romance at the campfire crackling between them.

The bedroom just seemed much further away than Malta right now – they would enjoy the eroticism, the love and affection, the romance here at the campfire.


	25. Air Malta Flight KM 101

_**\- Saturday, August/15 - 2020, England, Longford, Heathrow Airport -** _

Depressed and sad, blue looked into brown.  
Depressed and sad, brown gazed into blue.

The pairs of eyes did not reflect joy and euphoria, they showed sadness and longing, dejection and melancholy.

Two weeks had passed since Emma's arrival in London.  
Two weeks that had felt like a single day.  
Two weeks that had come to an end far too quickly.  
Two weeks had passed in which a lot had happened.

Friends had become a couple. 

For one wonderful week they had been able to enjoy more than just being in love with the other.  
For one wonderful week they had been able to enjoy love.  
They had been able to give love, they had received love.  
For one wonderful week they had been able to be a lovestruck couple -being very close.  
For a wonderful week they had been able to enjoy it - now they were about to say goodbye.

You could clearly read in both pairs of eyes that the missing and longing for the other was already burning in their hearts, that they actually didn't want to say goodbye. 

Martin had parked the car in one of the airport's car parks, isolated from the hustle and bustle. 

He looked at Emma, not really wanting to let her go. He didn't want to say goodbye to her, didn't want to let her go, not after a week of love and pleasure.  
One week was definitely too little, even if he had actually been able to enjoy two weeks with her.  
He wanted to enjoy the love they had found together even longer with her, didn't even want to think about the fact that they would have to go back to Skype again in a few hours. 

It was not fair. 

Martin sighed, looked deep into her eyes - he felt sad and heavy-hearted, depressed and restless, lonely and lost; melancholy.

He lifted his hand, the back of his fingers caressed across her cheek; he leaned in, kissed her temple, kissed her cheek, kissed her ear.  
"It's harder to let you go than to miss you," he murmured in her ear. "Somehow I would rather have missed you a little longer than to say goodbye to you now, not knowing when I will see you again."  
He breathed a second kiss on her ear.

Emma closed her eyes, nuzzled her ear and cheek against his lips.  
She swallowed - felt the same in her heart. It was harder and more depressing to have to say goodbye to him now than to still miss him in Malta without a visit.  
She nestled against his lips, biting her lower lip.  
She didn't want to say goodbye, she didn't want to kiss him goodbye, she didn't want to get out of the car, drop off her luggage and board the 11:25am Air Malta flight.  
Her heart pounded melancholy and dejected against her ribcage, yet it had been beating very happily and blissfully for the past week, enjoying the fresh and young love.  
She hadn't expected it to actually be that hard to say goodbye.  
Maybe it wasn't just the fresh love with Martin and the strong need to spend much more time with him, maybe it was the unusual current state of the world - Martin had said it; who knew when they would see each other again.

Martin leaned back a little, took Emma's face in both hands, looked at her briefly, then pressed a loving kiss to her lips.

"I've gotten too used to you - to waking up with you, then seeing you in my t-shirts or shirts at breakfast, enjoying a shower with you and then cuddling on the couch; falling asleep next to you. I've gotten too used to you in my house," he murmured against her lips. "It's awful saying goodbye to you and not knowing if you'll be banned from travelling again the day after tomorrow," he swallowed himself. "The last two weeks have been amazing... the last week has been exceptionally breathtaking. I would have loved to enjoy more time with you. I love our skyping, I love these little extraordinary dates, I really love it; but skyping with you is really just a drop in the ocean." he said in a melancholy voice.

Emma leaned forward slightly, kissed him softly.  
She kissed him gently, kissing him lovingly, stealing several kisses from him.  
The lips tasted good, the lips tasted soft and slightly rough.  
She put one hand to his cheek, put the other hand to the back of his head - fingers digging into the soft grey hair.  
She stole one last kiss, then leaned back a little, but the fingers remained in his soft hair, the hand stayed against his shaved cheek.

"I've really enjoyed both weeks - all the dating and also all that happened between us after our ice cream sundae date. This past week has been incredibly beautiful, and I love that we've become so much more for each other during this sundae date. I'm really very happy with you - and I've really enjoyed our first week as a couple. Being a couple with you is breathtaking - the harder it is to fly home now... where you are not. I already miss you. And it's not even the distance that makes it so hard to fly home now, it's more the uncertainty of what's going to happen tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or in a week, what's forbidden again, whether that's going to stop us from visiting," she breathed. "It would be a shame to fly home now even without this particular situation, but it would be easier,... because I would know that I could actually visit you, or be visited by you, anytime. Skyping with you has been brilliant and special,... now it kind of has a bland aftertaste." she breathed softly, letting her hand caresses from his cheek into his hair.

Martin looked at her, nodding.  
He studied her eyes, looked deep into them.  
His heart was beating lovestruck and enamoured but also longingly.  
The butterflies danced happily but also missing in his stomach.  
He couldn't let her go; he couldn't let her get out of the car after one last loving kiss - he just couldn't; he needed more time with her.

"I don't want you to get out of the car. I really don’t want you to fly home..." he murmured with an authentic sad and desperate voice, voicing what was making his heart ache, something that had been on the tip of his tongue since he woke up. "Could you cancel the flight and stay an extra week? Could you stay until next Saturday?"  
Emma blinked in surprise, looking at Martin with wide eyes, the brown of her eyes beginning to smile, to shine, to sparkle.  
"I... yes... yes I could stay until next Saturday!" she breathed, overwhelmed. "Would you like me to stay?" she asked.  
Martin nodded.  
"Yes,... I would like you to stay,... if you can arrange it,... if you feel like staying longer too."  
"I've got two jobs to finish - and the week after the next one I'll be helping out in the store a couple of times as well,... but I've got some time left for the jobs, and the week after next is still a little while away. So, I can make it work. And I would love to stay with you for another week!" she beamed at him enthusiastically and overwhelmed.

Martin's expression also changed – true sadness turned to euphoria.

"Actually, I'm supposed to pick up Gracie and Joe this afternoon,... but as much as I love and adore them and want you to meet my kids,... I'd love to spend this week with you, just with you. But I have to check with Amanda and the kids first. If I have to pick them up... would you still stay?" he asked hopefully.  
"If Amanda can't arrange for them to be with her for another week, or Joe and Gracie would really love to come and stay with you,... I'd like it if you'd ask them if they'd agree to share you with me for the next week," she smiled openly and honestly. 

Martin let his eyes dart over Emma's face again - he liked her answer, it showed that she was not only thinking about her own wishes and interests, that she was not only looking after her own needs and desires, but also after what his children wanted and needed, what they wished for and longed for.  
He gently caressed her cheek with his hand, breathed a grateful kiss on her temple. 

With a smile, Martin leaned back.  
With a smile he looked at Emma as he took his smartphone from the centre console. 

He placed his hand on Emma's thigh - his heart beating fast against his ribcage.  
He had really been looking forward to seeing his kids after three weeks without them, but as much as he missed them right now, as much as he truly loved them and would never give them away for anything in this world, right now he needed and wanted something else, right now he longed for someone else, right now he wished for something else.

Emma.  
Time with Emma.  
Time for their fresh and young love.  
A little more time for Emma and their fresh and young love.

He felt Emma's hand on his, was already listening to the ringing of his smartphone.  
Turning his hand around, he entwined his fingers with Emma's.

His call was answered.

"Martin.", Amanda’s voice smiled.  
"Hey.", he greeted his ex-girlfriend and the mother of his children.  
"Everything okay? Are you going to be a little late, or are you coming earlier?", Amanda asked with a smile.  
"Everything's fine. I wanted to ask you a favour."  
"I'm all ears, Martin."  
"Would it be possible for Joe and Gracie to stay with you until next Saturday?" he inquired cautiously. "I...would need some more time..."  
"Some more time?" asked Amanda in surprise, silent for a moment. "Oh,... Martin,... so if you're asking me to babysit them for another week, even though you can hardly get enough of them,... and you need some more time now, then... ", she said. "... have you met someone?" she asked - rarely anything did remain hidden from her, after all, she had spent almost 16 years with him as a partner and even more years with him as a friend by her side.

Martin searched for the right words, but before he found them, he could already listen to Amanda's smiling voice again.

"I've known you long enough. Your hesitation and searching for words is consent enough - and to just relax and enjoy time to yourself you would never give up time with Joe and Gracie," she smiled. "I can keep your two sweethearts entertained for another week with Jonjo. You know I just wanted you to be able to spend as much time with them as possible, because now it is possible due to the current situation; now you are in London and you can enjoy time as a dad. I would also have liked to offer you to take them with you for the whole time and only bring them over if you had to work outside the house again - and I know you would have been even happier about that and would have agreed straight away without thinking about it for a second. But I'm quite fond of them too," he heard the smiling voice at his ear. "I really don't have any problems with having them with me for another week - but I would pass Joe and Gracie the phone so you can ask them," she said. "Martin,... if we don't see each other today, then I wish you a very great and wonderful week with your secret," she smiled.

Martin smiled - in fact, he would have loved to have Joe and Gracie with him for the whole time, but even he knew that Amanda couldn't live without the children for months on end. 

"Oh, I would have loved that," he smiled. "Thank you for the time you're giving me as a dad this year," he said, though he thanked her for it every time he picked them up and brought them back. "And if we don't see each other today... then thank you as well.", he thanked her for her last comment and most importantly for her withhold curiosity as well.

"If you thank me again for giving you so much time as a dad this year, then... then I'll cut off your tongue,... or something else. Stop laughing," she grinned. "I can't even think of any malice because I'm touched by your gratefulness because it shows me once again how much and unconditionally you love our children, how much they love you and what a fantastic father you are. I’ll give the phone to Joe and Gracie now - and I hope we won't see each other today," she smiled at the end.

Martin didn't have a chance to say anything to her, heard her call for Joe and Gracie, heard her say that Daddy was on the phone.  
He felt Emma's sideways glance, turned his head towards her, tilted his head - his heart stopped.  
In her gaze he could see no impatience, no selfish hope that his children didn't want to see him; there was only patience, there was loving hope without selfishness, there was understanding.  
He gulped, overwhelmed by her empathy.

"Daddy!" rejoiced Joe and Gracie simultaneously.  
Martin winced slightly for a moment.  
"Hello, you two sweethearts.", his voice smiled.  
"You seem to be missing and longing for us desperately. We'll see you in five hours, won't we?"  
"I'm missing you and longing for you too, even when I'm with you.", he smiled and took a deep breath, he didn't want to disappoint or push them away, but the longing for more time with Emma was too big - he really needed that time with her. "You two,... you made me understand three weeks ago that you heard what I said to Grandpa - and you wished me two really great weeks," he murmured. "Would it be okay with you... if I make these two weeks into three weeks… and I don't pick you up for another week?", he asked and immediately started to justify himself. "I really miss and love you guys, and I don't want to let you down either; I want you to meet her sometime too,... I'd just like to enjoy another week all alone with her," he said honestly - looking gently into Emma's eyes.

"Has there been some kind of romantic crackle and spark? Are you a couple now? Or do you want to enjoy another week with her because she's not your girlfriend yet? When are we going to meet her? How... ", Gracie babbled, but Joe cut her off.  
"Stop grilling Daddy about her," he admonished Gracie. "We miss and love you a lot too, and we were really looking forward to today, but we'd rather stay with Mum for another week so you can spend time with Emma. You seem to really like her. Please have fun with Emma and please enjoy your time with her very much."

Martin looked deep into Emma's eyes.

"You seem to have heard more than I suspected, if you know what her name is."  
"We didn't mean to eavesdrop. It doesn't matter what we heard - you only told Grandpa. Gracie bit my hand for covering her mouth. But she just wants to keep bugging you with questions. We'll wait another week for you, we'll gladly wait another week. Please just have fun and enjoy the extra week with Emma."  
"Joe now has my bite mark on his hand," he heard Gracie's smirking voice.  
"I'm not sure I like that.", Martin commented her statement - he looked at Emma's smirking face; he was aware that she could hear not only his voice but the children's as well, and she had certainly heard Amanda too.  
"Don't worry, Daddy - I won't bite his hand off. I love you. Please do what Joe said. We can wait a little longer for you - but only if you really, really enjoy your time with Emma."  
"I promise I'll really enjoy my time with Emma," Martin smiled, looking softly and lovingly into Emma's brown eyes, which smiled patiently at him.  
"So, is Emma your new girlfriend, or are you just enjoying the time with her a lot without daring to confess your love to her?" Gracie asked curiously again.  
"Now let Dad get off the phone or he won't be able to enjoy his time with Emma at all," Joe interfered again - he didn't want Gracie to force their dad into a confession, after all they had already eavesdropped in Aldershot unintentionally and then quite deliberately – and he knew that his dad sometimes really needed some time alone with his own dad, that this was something that was really important to him; he didn’t want to talk too much about something they had overheard when his dad had wanted to have some time alone with his own dad. "I love you, Dad. We'll see you next weekend."

Martin smiled, glad that Joe had interfered - he'd be happy to answer their questions, because the answer to the question they most desperately wanted answered was intangibly beautiful. But he didn't want to answer those questions over the phone, he would much rather talk to Joe and Gracie about that when they were with him. 

"I love you guys too. Have a nice week with Mum - and if you really get on her nerves, then maybe I can keep you with me until the end of this pandemic. Even if I then have to drive you to school from mid-September."

Martin looked into Emma's amused face, but he could also see in her eyes that she was touched; she had obviously understood that his two children were extremely important to him and that he had only wanted to strengthen and emphasise his declaration of love for them.  
He smiled at Emma, raised his free hand, lovingly caressed the soft strands behind her ear.  
The laughter of his children reached his ear.

"We won't let you down," they said together.  
"Bye Daddy."  
"Bye Dad."  
"Bye you two sweethearts." he breathed fatherly warmly.

His children hung up, he too lowered the phone, laid it back into the centre console.

Emma smiled at him, now raising her hand as well. She caressed the side of his hair.  
"Since you first talked about Joe and Gracie, I noticed how much you love them, how important they are to you, how much you miss them, how proud you are of them and that you love being a daddy. Thank you for an extra week - just for the two of us," she added gently. "I'm sure they're both fantastic, and they really did sound very likable. I look forward to the day I get to meet them - but right now I'm really looking forward to getting to know you as a partner in life for another week," she breathed.  
She beamed at him - happiness rushed through her veins again, had pushed away the sadness.

Martin took her face in both hands.  
"Yeah; I really do love them,... but I'm also looking forward to enjoying another week with you, just for us,... very intensely. And yet, I am very much looking forward to the day when I will introduce them to you," he breathed. "But now I would like to keep the promise I made to my children - to enjoy the week with you very much."  
He eyed her warm eyes, lowered his gaze, let his eyes dart over her lips, then looked back into her warm eyes.

Three seconds didn't manage to pass.  
Martin's lips literally crashed down on Emma's - happy and euphoric, elated and lovestruck, longing and satisfied.  
He engaged her in an intimate kiss, heard her sigh, that was smothered a little in the kiss.  
He tasted the warm and sweet lips, enjoyed the feeling of them, loved the closeness to her, liked the intimacy and the intensity.  
He purred pleasurable as she returned his kiss.  
His kiss was devoted - he savoured it, not wanting to release her lips a second too soon.

They made out, snogged and smooched in the car which was parked with many other cars in one of the Heathrow Airport car parks.

In the best of moods, Martin had driven the car off the airport grounds 10 minutes after the call - the luggage still in the boot; the woman who was no longer just a friend, but above all his girlfriend and whom he had actually wanted to take to the airport, was also still in the car with him.  
In high spirits, Martin drove 51 minutes back to Hampstead, while Emma used the Air Malta app to rebook her flight for the following Saturday.

Emma had sat next to Martin in the car, rebooked her flight and then kept looking up at Martin with bright eyes, who she could tell was more than happy with the way the day had gone.  
Emma had been sitting in the car in the best of moods - and she had been able to sense how honestly and sincerely Martin was looking forward to another week together; but this had also been conveyed very clearly by his question afterwards.

In the house, Martin put the suitcase down by the stairs and lowered the travel bag there as well.

He turned to Emma, beaming with blue warm eyes, opening his arms warmly.  
"Welcome to London again." he winked charmingly and took a step towards her.  
His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a loving embrace - he could hardly believe his luck; she was still in London, he would get to spend another week with her; she was staying because of him, for them as a couple, for another week - seven whole days.

Emma snuggled into Martin's arms, cuddled into the loving embrace that gave not only security and love, but also a great deal of comfort and warmth.  
It felt good to still be here; and it had felt good to hear his honest question about spending another week in London - she was happily floating on cloud nine.

The tips of their noses rubbed gently together; their lips found themselves in another devoted kiss - their lips tingled; there was a romantic crackle between them once again.

The clocks in London let another minute pass - 11:24 am... 11:25 am.

Air Malta flight KM 101 took off for Malta - with one passenger less today.


	26. Some Extra Time

_**\- Wednesday, August/19 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead Heath -** _

Quiet and deserted, Hampstead Heath lay before their feet.  
Quiet, deserted and almost completely shrouded in darkness. 

Only a few lanterns lit their way through the greenery.

Martin and Emma had not chosen the time shortly before midnight to avoid being seen, rather they had simply decided spontaneously to go for a short walk at night - and what's more, the temperatures were now much more pleasant than during the day, for the heatwave had still not abated. 

They strolled leisurely side by side through the dark park, having enjoyed the extra days together very much so far.  
Mainly at Martin’s place - but that hadn't bothered either of them because they enjoyed the togetherness, being alone with each other, the intense time they could now spend together, which would unfortunately finally come to an end on Saturday.  
The extra week, which had not actually been planned, was used meticulously - quality time.

Neither of them minded the distance between Malta and England in general, but at this particular time they didn't know what to expect; it was hard to plan ahead, because who knew what would be allowed in a week, in a month, at the end of the year - and even if it was, there was still the question of whether some leisure activities were better left undone.  
Malta and England, that wasn't a big distance, but with the virus it suddenly seemed so much further apart - they couldn't just get into a car, they had to rely on the plane.

In the end, there even was the option of just getting into the car - Martin had even googled it: off to the Euro tunnel, across France to Italy, down to Sicily and then taking the ferry from Sicily to Valletta, from there just a short walk, car ride, bus drive or ferry ride to Sliema.  
33 hours - if you did it non-stop; so probably just under three days with breaks and rest included; a journey, he had to admit, he would go on for Emma.  
But whether by car or not, if France, Italy and Sicily did not allow UK citizens across their borders, those 33 hours were not an option either. 

This extraordinary year would put their still very fresh and young love under a severe test, but both Martin and Emma had a good feeling about it, there was little to no worry or concern that their still so young and fresh relationship wouldn’t make it through this extraordinary time.

Even Martin's head gave up worrying, because Martin's heart and tummy were in charge of this matter, and they clearly spoke great confidence, love and trust.  
There were no worries, there was only longing and missing. 

For a brief moment, Martin put an arm around Emma's shoulder, even breathed a kiss on her temple quite freely and carelessly - so far they had indeed not met a soul. And even if a throng of people were walking towards them now, he didn't want to hide at all, he felt far too comfortable with Emma; there was great trust, there was the inner knowledge that he was in very good hands with her.

"Sorry for skyping so long earlier."  
"You don't have to apologise for working."  
"But I left you alone all this time."  
"I wasn't alone at all, I was with you the whole time," she smiled.  
"Yes, I know... I just didn't have time to look after you."  
"And I enjoyed the time anyway, even if you gave your attention to other people."

She put her arm around Martin briefly, turned her head to him, stopped as she walked, breathed a kiss on his cheek. 

\----------Flashback----------

_Cosily and almost completely noiselessly, Emma sat in one of the armchairs that stood in the living room.  
She had been sitting here for a while now, being very still and quiet.  
She was lounging in the armchair, had a drawing pad on her lap, had been drawing for a while._

_Martin was sitting on the sofa, skyping with Daisy and the producer of Breeders for some time now._

_Emma was calm and quiet; she hadn't thought much about the fact that Martin was skyping here on the couch - but it was a sign from Martin that he trusted her blindly and unconditionally, because he wasn't chatting privately via Skype; he was talking to Daisy and the producer about the series, about upcoming shooting days in September and about the script; quite openly, so that Emma could hear everything.  
Very calmly and quietly Emma sat in the armchair, not listening at all, had turned off the sounds around her completely - she didn't want to eavesdrop, for one thing, and above all she was looking forward to the second season far too much and she didn't want to spoil what was sure to be a very exciting second season for herself in advance. _

_Even if she did hear something, secrets were safe with her, she was after all her own secret, and had been for many years - even if there were a few confidants, such as her family and Martin._

_She sat comfortably in her armchair, drawing and painting, using a pencil and crayons.  
Her eyes kept glancing at Martin, watching him for a few moments.  
Time passed quite comfortably and in silence between them, but Emma enjoyed his presence very much - it was enough that this man was near her, just this simple presence made her happy._

\----------End of Flashback----------

Emma and Martin strolled through the darkness, through the mild summer night, along the gloomy paths. 

"What have you been drawing when I was skyping?" he asked, for Emma had not shown him the picture until now - when he had finished skyping, the pad had lain folded shut on the coffee table and Emma had just given him a very gentle look, opening her arms for him.  
"I'll show you when we get back to your place," she smiled.  
"How do you think I'll react to the picture?" he asked, already trying to figure out something about it.  
"You'll laugh.", Emma grinned. "I'm very sure you'll laugh heartily."  
"That makes me even more curious now," Martin grinned. 

Emma stopped, made Martin stop too - he turned to face her, had walked two more steps before he realised Emma had stopped; he tilted his head.  
Emma held out her hand to him.

"Come on, let's go back - we've walked a good distance, after all, and when we’re back I can satisfy your curiosity," she smiled. 

Martin looked to her, let his eyes wander to her hand, let his eyes dart back to her face - he smiled, held out his hand, took two steps towards her at the same time.  
He let her take his hand - the delicate and filigree fingers slipped between his; a wonderful feeling.  
It was a glorious feeling to be in love again, to hold hands, to simply float on cloud nine, giving and receiving affection. 

"That's an excellent idea. I'd much rather lounge on the couch some more than move around any longer," he grinned honestly.  
"You little sloth bear. I hope you still make it home." she grinned. "If not, just lie down on the floor and I'll pull you all the way home."  
Martin laughed, walking beside her now - she was still holding his hand.  
"Then I'd better drag myself on my feet all the way to the house, I don't like being dragged along the pavements, it's for sure very uncomfortable."  
"Then stay on your feet for the next fifteen minutes," she grinned. "Oh, I have another idea. You could also wait when your lazy sloth bear legs can't walk any more - and I'll get the wheelbarrow from the garden and use that to transport you home."  
Again, Martin laughed heartily, strolling with her through the darkness, past the few diffused lanterns.  
"That would actually be a pretty good idea - and more comfortable." he grinned, turning his head towards her as he walked. "But I think I'll still make it to the couch on my own sloth bear legs with difficulty." he winked. 

Grinning at each other, they continued to stroll leisurely through the night - hand in hand.

Hand in hand, they strolled their way back to Martin's house - without meeting a soul. 

After 17 minutes, Martin dropped onto the cosy couch in the living room at just after midnight - dramatically.  
He was half lying on the couch, his feet still on the floor. 

"Phew... ", he sighed in an exhausted voice as if he had swum across the Atlantic. "That was a close one. One more step and my lazy sloth bear legs would have given way." he dramatised the lie, for he had simply longed again for comfort at home with Emma - and he knew that Emma knew this real reason behind his little amusing theatrics.

Emma laughed, took his legs in her hand, lifted them onto the couch as well - she loved his kind of silliness.

Martin grinned broadly, folded his arms behind his head, now slumped properly on the comfy couch - his casual shirt sliding up his stomach just a little bit. 

Emma grinned, letting her eyes dart to the bare skin - immediately recognising her chance.  
Martin seemed to have a great desire to fool around and banter with her a little - oh, he could have that.

She bent over him, letting her fingertips tickle the bare skin, the side of his belly.  
Immediately Martin fought back laughing, trembling, even tucking up his legs; the laughter were loud and hearty.  
Emma grinned, didn’t let him win, tickled him mercilessly.

Martin laughed giggling, laughed loudly, laughed boisterously and gasped for breath.  
He still tucked up his legs, tried to turn to the side, tried to turn away from her, tried to fight off her hands at the same time, but with the strong tickling and all the laughter, his attempts at defence were a pathetic joke.  
He was panting and giggling more and more - now not only was a hand tickling the hell out of him at the side of his belly, but also at his neck.  
The fingers weren't caressing him lovingly and delightfully, nor were they scratching those spots seductively so that he got goosebumps; the fingers were tickling him naughtily and mercilessly so that it wasn't a purr and a sigh that escaped his mouth but almost feminine giggles. 

"Emma!" he laughed panting, still trying to fight her hands off, tears of laughter rolling incessantly down his cheeks.

His body was tense, legs still tucked up, arms trying to gently fight off her hands, body trying to turn away from her, twisting and writhing laughing under her tickle attack. 

It was absolute torture, but that pawing tickle attack sent trillions of feelings of happiness through his body, sent an almost indescribable loving warmth through every fibre of his body. 

He kicked briefly, but then preferred to tuck up his legs again, laughing boisterously and gasping for air, chortling with a happy and silly, cheerful and amused laugh. 

Emma grinned and laughed with him, could tell he was suffering, could tell he was having lots of fun.  
She tickled him mercilessly, his defences were no match for her tickle attack - but she watched his body and facial expressions very closely, listened to his laughter and pants very carefully too.

The tickle attack slowly stopped, becoming softer and more tender, turning into a goosebump-inducing caress as she saw and heard that Martin needed a break from her teasing.

The laughter ebbed more and more, suddenly becoming an intense purr and sigh.  
The body relaxed under her hands, now lolling under her touches on the neck and side of the belly.  
The face showed pleasure instead of tension, exuberance and silliness.

Martin felt the goosebumps, purred and sighed deeply - pleasure rushed through his body, trillions of pleasurable and warm, blissful and amorous feelings of happiness.  
He shivered pleasantly - Emma had scratched her fingernails tenderly over his neck, had scratched her fingernails tenderly over the side of his stomach.  
His breathing had long since calmed.

Her fingers disappeared, but he suddenly tasted her lips on his - a very gentle kiss.

"Shall I make you laugh again?" she murmured against his lips. "... Not with a tickle attack, but with the picture I drew earlier," she murmured again directly against his lips, kissing them afterwards very softly and warmly.

Martin still kept his eyes closed but raised his head slightly to press a kiss to Emma's lips.  
The eyes opened, sparkling with love and warmth, but also still a little silly and full of fun. 

"Show me your picture, cheeky devil," Martin grinned.

Emma smirked, tousled Martin’s grey hair, then sat down on the floor in front of the couch.  
She pulled the pad across the coffee table while Martin turned on his side, propped himself up on his forearm, and pressed a kiss into her hair.  
Emma smiled, had enjoyed the kiss, had enjoyed the tickling, had enjoyed his little game of theatre - she opened the pad, showed Martin the picture made of pencil and crayons.

And as she had predicted, she made Martin laugh with it.

He laughed heartily and honestly, looking amused at the picture Emma had drawn, which gave him quite a lot of pleasure and fun.

She had drawn him - A4 format.  
It was a colourful caricature - he was standing on a record player, standing on the record, looking up; the head quite big, the body quite small, the proportions resembling that of a PopVinyl figure; the nose bigger, the ears too, the lips showing a broad and teeth-showing grin, the eyes quite bright blue; on one ear and in his grey fluffy hair sat on-ear headphones; the arms were opened as if he were spinning on the record and having the most fun.  
He laughed, looked at the picture - the eyes showed a breathtaking depth; he had the impression that he would look quite naughty, but then he had the impression that he would look quite amorous.  
He reached out, covered one side of his face - there it was, the amorous glow, all sweet, all gentle, euphoric and warm; his hand changed position; and there it was, the cheeky grin, the mischievousness, the cheeky charming twinkle.  
He raised his hand, still looking at the picture, even discovering that he not only had his arms outstretched, but that his left hand was showing the middle finger, while in his right hand a teacup was swaying. 

She had definitely made him laugh with it, but now he smiled; he was touched - he turned his head to her, kissed the top of her head again.

"May I keep this?" he asked.  
"You may." she breathed softly and put the pad on the coffee table - the picture was still visible.

Martin looked after the caricature, then turned his head back to Emma, kissing the head again.

"I don't want to know what your talented fingers would have drawn if they had had more time. Your talent really does take my breath away all the time, Miss Darlington." he smiled into her hair. He kissed the top of her head again, then put his hand to her jaw, gently turning her head towards him. "Thank you for that very funny yet so true caricature - I'll get it a nice frame and hang it up," he said, looking deep into her eyes. "Would Miss De Laurentiis like to cuddle with Mr. Freeman on the couch for a bit before he takes her to his bed?" he breathed, stealing a kiss.

Emma smiled - flattered by his words and pet names, flattered by his compliments.  
She nodded as he stole his kiss. 

Little did they know that the cuddling would turn into much more before they would go to bed, as their lips met in a shared very tender kiss.


	27. An Extraordinary Gift

_**\- Tuesday, September/08 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Lunch had been enjoyed.  
Hunger had been satisfied.  
The desire for birthday cake was nevertheless present. 

Martin turned his head to Joe and Gracie, sitting with them at the kitchen table.  
His two children sat right next to him - very close.

"Could you stop fidgeting all the time?" he asked.  
"It's exciting," Gracie said.  
"And boring - when is it going to be 1pm?" asked Joe, glancing at the display on the laptop. "It's still 10 minutes! How can that be?!"  
"It's still 10 minutes because you asked the same question just seconds ago - for the TENTH time!"  
"It just looks like I just asked you this seconds ago, Dad," Joe placated him. "Just call Emma, it doesn't matter - it's only 10 minutes away anyway," he said. "Besides, you're on pins and needles yourself because you want to thank her for her birthday present - and we want to finally meet her."  
"You act like I've kept Emma from you guys for months - you're the first people I've introduced Emma to;... apart from Grandpa, but that doesn't really count."  
"And Aunt Laura and Uncle Lamar know her too," Gracie said. "And they even met Emma before you did. Besides, you've kept her from us for months - you've been skyping with her since the end of March."  
"Apart from Laura, Lamar and Grandpa, though, you two are the first. You're the first ones I've told that Emma and I are a couple, and you're now the first to meet her as my new girlfriend."

Joe and Gracie looked at him, smiling - they were thrilled by the fact that their father had a new girlfriend, even if she was much younger.  
Their father seemed really happy - nothing else really mattered.  
They looked to him, tilting their heads.

"Dad,...", Joe said. "... we've discovered your paparazzi photos by now and know what she looks like, but can you please call her already anyway - I want to finally meet her properly. It doesn't matter if we call her a few minutes earlier. Besides, I'm sure she'll be happy to see you a bit earlier - and you miss her very much too, don't you?" he deftly cornered Martin.

Martin sighed, turned his head to the laptop; he let the mouse pointer move to the video icon next to Emma's name, clicked and started the video call.  
He was looking forward to Emma, looking forward to her meeting his children, looking forward immensely to thanking her right now for this stunning birthday gift.  
His children had been on pins and needles for days, but he had postponed the getting to know each other meeting until today, had been skyping with Emma for the last few days just by himself - and yet Joe and Gracie had already found out a lot, because they had really grilled him in the last few days, mostly Gracie, but Joe had been very curious too.  
He couldn’t blame them, they had let him enjoy his ‘secret’ he had with his dad for quite some time – and he was actually very thankful for it.

Joe and Gracie sat impatiently next to Martin.  
They were already on fire about their dad's new girlfriend, even though she was so much younger - but everything their dad had told them so far sounded fabulous and splendid.  
And Emma's birthday package for their dad had increased their sympathy and enthusiasm a thousandfold - because in their opinion, the package had clearly shown how well Emma knew him, how much Emma cared about him, how much Emma loved and appreciated him, how important he was to Emma; and that they both played a very important role for Emma too.

The video call was answered. 

There she was - the new girlfriend; a big warm smile on her lips, eyes shining and sparkling brown, delicate and filigree fingers running through the soft light brown hair that had a golden natural touch, falling to her shoulders.  
There she was - the new girlfriend, waving.

Gracie and Joe looked to her; eyes glowing, scrutinising the new girlfriend, who now looked even prettier via Skype than in the paparazzi photos.  
They too waved at her with languishing eyes.

"Hello Joe,... hello Gracie.", Emma greeted them in a warm voice - her eyes darting to Martin, winking at him. "Hello birthday boy from England. Happy Birthday again - I was actually going to light a sparkler, but it only occurred to me a few minutes ago and unfortunately I haven't found it yet."

Martin looked at her with warm shining eyes, hadn't said anything yet, had so far just been gazing at her with blue eyes, eyeing her beautiful figure.  
He missed her very much - the goodbye at the airport a little over a fortnight ago was still a sad memory; it had been terrible to have to say goodbye to her after the lovely extra week.

"Thank you... " he murmured, still overwhelmed by her birthday present. "I don't know what to do first: introducing you to Joe and Gracie or saying thank you for your present about a hundred years."

Emma smirked, tilted her head, looked gently at him.  
"Why don't you introduce me to your two greatest treasures before you thank me for the other treasure?" she smiled.  
Again, she ran her hand through her hair, smiling at Martin, at Joe and Gracie, who looked at her excitedly and still languishingly.

"So,... these two here next to me, are the two rascals we've talked about so many times – the two rascals I've cursed so many times, that I've complained about so many times, that I've raved about so much; the two rascals I always miss terribly and told you so like at least a million times, crying my heart out while doing so." he smiled, literally feeling his children grin and smile at the same time. He pointed to Gracie. "Gracie... " He pointed to Joe. "Joe." he smiled.  
Joe and Gracie waved again.  
Emma smiled at them.  
"Hello you two. I'm Emma. Nice to meet you two finally - like your dad said, I've heard a lot about you." she smiled and winked. "Despite his swearing and his complaints, he has mostly just raved about you guys and kept letting me know, in different words, how much he loves, adores and cherishes you."

Joe and Gracie turned their heads to Martin, beaming, then turned their heads back to Emma.

"We love him too, monumentally," Gracie smiled. "And it's great to meet you today!" she said excitedly.  
"Yeah, it's great to finally meet you!" rejoiced Joe. "And Gracie forgot to mention that not only do we love him monumentally, but he has told us a lot about you in the last few days too – and that he has said that he loves you very much in lots of different words."  
Emma smiled with a wink.  
"I also know quite a few words that would show how much I love your Daddy," she breathed with a smile.  
Joe and Gracie beamed at her.  
"It's really a shame you can't be here - it sure is great spending time with you," Joe said.  
"Joe's right about that.", Gracie nodded dejectedly, but then her eyes sparkled again. "Thanks for thinking of us too - your package was great, Daddy was very happy and touched by it."

Martin looked at Emma, listening to her and his children, also kept glancing back and forth between them.  
He was amazed and overwhelmed that it hadn't taken two seconds - that it hadn't taken his children two seconds to warm up with Emma.  
The two of them were sitting next to him, chatting with Emma as if they had already spent a lot of time with her - it had taken them a while with Jeanne, even if they had had a great relationship after they had warmed up with her.  
He had to sort out his thoughts for a moment - the mood and atmosphere between Emma and his children touched him deeply; he could feel that they were absolutely on the same page. 

"It's a real shame - I would have loved to come and celebrate with the three of you, but unfortunately I have to work a bit... and then there's that nasty virus." she smiled - and then she winked at the two children. "I didn't want the birthday guests to have to miss out on snacks and drinks."

Martin found his voice again.

"It was really sweet of you to pack Joe and Gracie some Maltese treats too. We've already had a nibble and also our bottle of Kinnie - Joe and Gracie were delighted too." he smiled. "Thank you for the package, Emma. Thank you for the Kinnie, for the biscuits, for the birthday cake – we’ll enjoy it in the afternoon; I'm sure it's very tasty; your Maltese carnival cake looks very tasty. Thank you also for the little messages and the birthday card.", he beamed.  
"You're very welcome, Martin," Emma breathed softly. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the cake - and I'm glad it seems to have arrived in one piece. By the way, I sent the parcel with express delivery and just sent it yesterday, so the cake is fresh," she grinned. "It's not carnival, but it's just delicious and I think it looks great."  
"That's what I thought - because I didn't expect you'd send me a rotten cake from last week," Martin smirked. The eyes began to glow again. "Now we come to the treasure that was also in the package. I don't think I'll be done thanking you for it in a hundred years. I hope you have some time," he said. 

Eyes blazing, he sat on the edge of the chair.  
Emma grinned, pleased at his delight.  
Joe and Gracie grinned next to him.

"Thank you for that record!" he said. "Thank you! I really can't thank you enough for it!" he said euphorically. "I remember telling you about this record, telling you I've been looking for it for years. How did you get hold of this Beatles record so quickly?" he asked about a record that was hand-signed and contained unreleased songs; he asked about a record of which only six copies were to find in the entire world, as only six records had ever been pressed. "The record and the cover look like they’re new, although it was certainly heard several times. At an auction it would probably be worth several hundred thousand pounds. I almost can't accept that gift." he breathed in a respectful and overwhelmed voice.

Emma tilted her head, smiling gently.

"There was a family friend who was very crazy about records. He sadly passed away last November - quite peacefully, at the age of 96. Giljan left us his entire collection - a lot of records. You already have a record shop at your house, but he had much more in his house. He wanted Matteo and me to find a new home for the records. He had conventional records, special editions, limited editions, rare records, rarities like your birthday present," she smiled. "For this particular Beatles record, which is now yours, there was a different but similar wish. He wanted us to find the perfect home for this record. So far we hadn't found it. Just before I came to see you, I had spoken to Matteo and told him that I’ve found the perfect home - and that I would like to give you the record as a present; he immediately agreed. And I'm sure if Giljan would have known you, he couldn't have thought of a better home for this Beatles record."

Martin tilted his head, swallowed, excited and overwhelmed.

"But... Emma,... you can't just give me such a rarity," he breathed, touched. "I mean,... God,... I love this gift. And I could freak out with joy and I’m almost choked with emotion. And if you were here, I'd not only get on your nerves with my constant ‘thank you’s’, but also with a zillion hugs and kisses. But... wow, Emma, this is just insane."  
Joe looked at Emma with a smile and then at Martin.  
"That's kind of a sad but also a very beautiful story. If Giljan wanted someone very special for that record, I'm sure he'd be very happy to know you have it. If anyone deserves it, it's you."  
Gracie nodded.  
"Yes,... you love your records and you really look after them, almost as much as you look after us,” she said. "And you're just as caring and careful with them. I don't know Giljan either, but I think he would be insanely happy to know that the record is with you now."  
Emma smiled.  
"Your two most precious treasures are right about that, ħanini. There's no way Giljan would have wanted you to pay anything for the record. So, it's a gift you can accept," she smiled.

She eyed Martin, who was still sitting in front of the camera completely thrilled, overchallenged, overwhelmed and touched - speechless he was.

"It's lovely to see you so speechless - it's lovely to see how excited you are about the record. It's in the best hands with you - it found its perfect match, it found its perfect home; and so has the painting in your living room," she winked, knowing that his children were also confidants of her secret, since she allowed Martin to tell them. "And I found it with you,…" her eyes sparkled lovestruck.  
Martin's eyes suddenly sparkled even more, literally glowing as the words reached him.  
"It seems that fate has been very good to both of us," he breathed in an amorous and warm voice. "That my love for the Beatles and records is the perfect home for this particular Beatles record; that my living room is the perfect home for this painting;... and that you are my perfect home," breathed the voice again very warmly.

Joe and Gracie turned their heads to each other, beaming at each other - they could feel butterflies dancing in their stomachs themselves, triggered by the romantic sizzle between their father and Emma; triggered by their father's happiness and infatuation; triggered because their father had found his home.  
They beamed at each other, their eyes glowing.

Emma and Martin gazed at each other via the camera, languishing, beaming happily at each other, eyes glowing and sparkling, knees soft, butterflies dancing, hearts doing somersaults. 

Emma brushed her hair behind her ear, feeling comfortable and at home.  
It was a wonderful feeling - a feeling she had always been looking for; that knowledge that you belonged together even at the beginning of a relationship; which woman wouldn’t want to feel exactly that?

"You know,... we never took money for Giljan's records, not once - at least not directly. Every cent we take from the sale of his records we want to donate, or we have already donated - with the money we want or are already supporting projects he cared for; like the musical support of children or the restoration of historic Maltese buildings, like the old opera house in Valletta."  
Martin bowed his head, looking at her with emotion.  
"Then may I donate the money for this reco... " he began, but Emma interrupted him with a shake of her head.  
"Matteo and I have already taken care of that," she winked. "Martin,... please. Stop thinking about the money," she smiled. "Enjoy your gift and cherish this record. If you want to donate something to our Giljan project, you have to buy a record." she winked. "And since I miss you a lot, gorgeous man with two lovely kids from England,... I'll only sell records locally to you." she winked gently. "So, if you want to make a donation, you'll have to come and see your woman from Malta," she breathed softly.  
Martin's eyes lit up more and more, glittering like the sea in the sun.  
"If I come to see you, it's because of you, beautiful woman from Malta." he breathed fondly - wanting to tell her that she would be the main reason for a trip to Malta, not a record store, even if there was a noble deed behind many records.

"You guys are really awfully cute," Gracie grinned, interrupting the two adults. "I've never seen Daddy this smitten and soppy or being that soppy on someone, Emma," she said, putting her hand on Martin's chest. "He has a very fast-beating heart. I can't feel the butterflies, but I'm sure there are lots of them in his tummy."  
"That's right! He's never been so much in love with someone. He didn't want to tell us all about you, he wanted us to get to know you today; but as soon as we asked him something about you, he didn't stop raving about you. Auntie Laura and Uncle Lamar hit the bull's eye with their souvenir."

Martin and Emma looked at each other, smiled, grinned, then laughed because of Joe and Gracie.  
The laughter continued, but after a few moments became a grin again, then a smirk, then a smile.  
They winked at each other, even made a kissy mouth, sent a peck to Malta and a peck to England. 

"My two birthday guests are right," he smiled flirtatiously. "Thank you again, Emma. Thank you for the truly stunning gift. And even without this very special record, I would have loved your package. Thank you for thinking of me, and Joe and Gracie too," he breathed. "You said that my two most precious treasures were here, and that there was another treasure in the package,... but there is another very precious treasure,… and even so it looks like it is very close to me, unfortunately this precious treasure is much too far away.", he smiled in a warm voice. "I love you, Em.", he breathed softly and sent her another kiss.  
He felt comfortable and at ease, together with his children and Emma.

"I'm really glad I could bring you such joy with my little package," she smiled - her heart still overflowing because of his gratitude, his words and his declarations of love. "I would love to crawl through the laptop, Martin,... and enjoy and celebrate the rest of your birthday with you and these two cuties. I really do miss you. And even though I'm way too far away right now,... I'm very glad Joe and Gracie are so close to you," she breathed softly. "I love you too, Martin - and I hope the day comes soon when we are closer again."  
She felt comfort and happiness inside her, felt very comfortable together with him and his children.

They beamed at each other, gave each other another kiss. 

And then, curious and chattering, they were grilled by Joe and Gracie.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joe and Gracie didn't let Emma go – when Martin and Emma wanted to end the Skype call they insisted on having a coffee and some cake together.  
And while they had enjoyed the birthday cake, Emma had enjoyed biscuits and other pastries on the balcony.  
Joe and Gracie had asked questions almost non-stop, had been very interested in Emma, but they had also sensed Emma's genuine and attentive interest.

They were still sitting at the kitchen table in front of the laptop, but the screen no longer showed Emma's face - they had finished the birthday skyping a few seconds ago, but Martin and Emma would still enjoy skyping together in bed at a later hour – not to mention that Joe and Gracie insisted on having dinner together as well.

"Do you like her?" Martin asked.  
"Is that a serious question, Dad? You’re kidding right? You didn’t really ask that question, did you?” asked Joe with a raised eyebrow. "She's absolutely awesome, perfect, gobsmacking, funny, sweet and hot!" he gave his opinion.  
"I... just wanted to ask again if she’s approved by you."  
"Daddy was worried about her age, Joe!" Gracie said, rolling her eyes at her brother's failure to detect the hidden concern of their dad. She turned to Martin, wrapped her arms around his neck, caressed the back of his head. "We don't care that she's only 30, Daddy. She's amazing and truly a precious treasure, you guys are just awesome. We really like that she's your new girlfriend - and I think you're totally perfect and made for each other. You look really cute together, too. You should never let her go,… never" she reassured him.  
"I agree with Gracie, even though she has already spoken for me. It doesn't matter that she's younger than you. You're a stunning and truly very cute couple. I hope you get to see each other again very soon, and I hope we get to meet her in person very soon too, " he smiled reassuringly too. "And she’s truly incredibly hot," he added.

Martin and Gracie looked at Joe, laughing together.

"What? She is, isn’t she?" grinned Joe.


	28. Chestnuts And Ivory

_**\- Friday, October/09 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Warmth rushed through the living room - the fire crackled in the fireplace again after many months; for the first time this autumn. 

Martin was sitting on the couch, had been enjoying a bath a few minutes ago - now he was sitting on the big sofa in the living room with a cosy jumper, and sweatpants. He stretched out his legs, his bare feet pointing towards the fireplace, which he had already lighted before he had enjoyed the hot bubble bath.

He closed his eyes.

A long and yet felt short month had already passed again since his birthday - a little more than four weeks in which he had finally been able to really enjoy his work again.  
He had returned to the 'Breeders' set with a very good female friend of many years.  
And it had been a lot of fun to be in front of the camera again - with Daisy, for this project, in which he had put so much heart and soul.  
Finally he could be in front of the camera again; it was a breathtaking feeling.  
On top of that, it was the series he had helped to develop that he could finally continue working on - the second season.  
He was proud of this project and of everyone who worked with him on it, whether in front of or behind the scenes.  
When he had come up with the idea for this project, when they had started working on it, he had not thought that the series would actually be this popular - and now they were shooting for the second season.  
He had enjoyed the last few weeks, even though there were also guidelines for filming that they had to adhere too.  
Finally out of the house again. 

He opened his eyes, folded his arms behind his head, looked at the fireplace.

His eyes watched the fire.  
He sighed.  
No Joe, no Gracie this weekend.  
No Emma tonight - she was at her grandma's birthday.  
He sighed.  
He wouldn't see Joe and Gracie again until next weekend.  
He would have to do without Emma until tomorrow evening - not because she would be at her grandma's for that long, but because she had things to do tomorrow, for the record store and for her artwork.

He often had to miss Joe and Gracie.  
It was the same with Emma - even though they skyped every day, it didn't mean they were always sitting in front of their laptops for hours on end, not caring about their jobs, families, friends and everyday duties anymore; they adjusted their time together to their daily routine every day. 

With Joe and Gracie he had exchanged a few WhatsApp messages in the afternoon.  
With Emma, he had skyped right after getting home in the late afternoon, just before she had headed off to Grandma Carlotta's birthday. 

Now it was shortly before eight - and he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

His head wanted to send him into a musing about possible occupation opportunities, but the bell announced an occupation opportunity he hadn't expected.

Martin tore himself away from staring into the fire and stood up.  
Actually, he was not expecting a visitor at all.  
He shrugged his shoulders, walked through the living room, went into the hallway.  
Martin's bare feet carried him to the front door - his hair still slightly tousled and damp from bathing.

He opened the door, had actually wanted to look through the peephole, but his hand had been much quicker.

"SURPRISE!" it rang out to him - one voice male, the other female. 

Martin looked into two very familiar faces - his eyes grew bigger, his mouth opened; he blinked several times, no sound left his lips.

In front of him stood a young woman - dark skin, a soft chestnut brown; her eyes showed a deep brown; the wild curly mane that reached her shoulders was dark brown almost black; she was a few short inches taller than him, slender. She wore make-up - and her lips showed a dark red.  
In front of him stood a young man - dark skin, a soft chestnut brown, but a little darker than his sister's; eyes big and round, a coffee brown gazed warmly at him; black hair showed the Afro-typical texture but had been cut a little shorter, one would be able to run one's hands through the thick hair; a neat beard adorned his cheeks, his chin, his upper lip. He was a few inches taller than his sister.

The two 22-year-old siblings looked at their uncle, beamed at him, pushed him into the house without words, kicked the door shut.  
The twins, who belonged to Laura and Lamar, opened their arms warmly, wrapped them around Martin together and simultaneously.

The first kiss hit his left cheek - the kiss tickled, for he could feel a beard.  
The second kiss, which actually hit his right cheek at the same time, felt very tender.

He was still being cuddled and snuggled, was almost crushed between the young adults.

"I can't breathe anymore... ", Martin gasped. 

For a split second, Martin was let go, but the young man now pulled him into a warm and heartfelt embrace, even pressed a kiss into Martin's grey hair. He rubbed over Martin's back, immensely happy to see his uncle - the last visit was months ago; the last time he saw him without Skype and FaceTime was many months ago; Christmas 2019. 

Martin finally wrapped his arms around his grown-up nephew too. He pressed him against himself, felt the bearded cheek against his own cheek; the young man leaned down to him. He turned his head, breathed a welcoming kiss on his cheek, on his beard.  
"Tembo... ", he now greeted him with his name as well.  
He pulled him more intensely into his embrace - the joy of seeing him was immense.

Tembo let his hands slide onto Martin's shoulders, squeezed them, smiled joyfully at Martin, now letting his twin sister enjoy a second hug.

The young woman beamed at Martin, even pranced on the spot as she opened her arms again warmly and enthusiastically - the wild thick curls bobbing.  
She wrapped her arms around Martin's neck, pressed a kiss into his grey hair on the side of his head, nuzzled her chestnut-coloured cheek against her uncle's ivory one.  
At last they had arrived - she had been annoying Tembo quite a bit for the last few miles, couldn't wait to see Martin; truth be told, she had been annoying him with her bouncy impatience ever since they had started the engine of the car in Aberdeen. But her brother hadn't given her a telling off, because he couldn't wait to see Martin either. 

Martin wrapped his arms around his niece - it was fantastic to see her, to feel her in his embrace.  
He rubbed her back, turned his head, breathed a kiss on the soft chestnut-coloured skin.  
"Ava... " he breathed, only pulling her more into his warm and longing embrace afterwards.  
He nuzzled her against him. 

Ava gave his ivory cheek another kiss, then leaned back a little, then took a step back.

Martin looked back and forth between his niece and nephew.  
He had a very intense and close relationship with them - they were one heart and soul, perhaps because they were his twin sister's children, perhaps because they were twins too.  
He loved his family, each one of them; he loved all his nieces and nephews, but the bond he had forged with Ava and Tembo, was special, was different; so it was with his own sister and him; he loved all his siblings, but Laura was special; they shared a very different and much deeper love.

He glanced at Ava and Tembo, swallowed, bit his lower lip briefly, ran a hand through his grey hair, rubbed the back of his neck - briefly chewed his lower lip, swallowed the lump in his throat, cleared his throat.

"God, it's... beyond words how good it is to see you two," he breathed.

Ava and Tembo beamed at him - the deep and intense, very special love was mutual; they too loved each of their uncles, but Martin was something else, their love for Martin was different, more magical, more special.  
They had always had a very close relationship with him, had always been very close - with his first greeting kiss 22 years ago, they had had a crush on him and that had not changed until today.  
He was and remained their number one. 

"We just couldn't take it any longer," Tembo beamed. "We didn't want to wait any longer. We've all been so exemplary about following all the rules - I think we've earned a little reunion."  
"That's why we got Mum's car this morning and hit the road," Ava beamed. "It's been a bloody long ten hours - we would have loved to beam from Aberdeen to London."

Martin smiled at them, tilting his head as the two of them slipped out of their shoes - they'd apparently left their jackets in the car and their backpacks or bags too, he guessed; they hadn't said they would be staying overnight or for a few days, but Martin knew the two of them hadn't driven 10 hours only to drive back in three or four hours.

"Come on - let's go into the living room. Can I treat you with something to eat? What do you want to drink?" he asked solicitously.  
Tembo glared at him, following him with Ava not into the living room but into the kitchen.  
"Could you make your delicious little vegetable pies, and your sensational mashed potatoes?"  
"Oh yes, that would be perfect," Ava beamed.  
"Well, you don't have to just because of us, if you don't feel like cooking," Tembo added.  
"Shut the fuck up already and tell me what you want to drink - and make yourselves comfortable," Martin grinned and then smiled with a wink - of course he would grant the two their wish.

Grateful smiles appeared on the young adults' faces after a cheerful grin and smirk.

"I would love to have some tea. Fruit tea." said Ava, who was studying music in Aberdeen.  
"Yeah, me too. Something with herbs." said Tembo, who was studying medicine at the same university.

Martin nodded - took three cups from the cupboard.

Caring and looking after his nephew and niece, Martin was busy in the kitchen while his niece and nephew chatted with him, while they told him the latest news about their studies, while they told him about the trip and the last week, while they asked him about his week.

Martin listened to their words, listened with interest, asked interested questions, also told them about his week.

While Martin cooked for them, for he had already eaten a snack, he still felt the immense joy inside him - the joy that the two of them had triggered.  
It was simply wonderful to see them and to be able to spend time with them.

The mood in the kitchen was boisterous and harmonious - you could sense that everyone present was very happy to be here right now, right here with the others; that they liked and loved each other.

"Mum and Dad told us about their Malta souvenir," Ava smiled. "And that this souvenir is now your girlfriend."  
"A nice lockdown love story," Martin's nephew added.

Martin raised his head, just preparing the pies for the oven.  
"You can't have secrets in this family."  
"Especially not you. We can just google you," Tembo grinned. "And if we had, we would have seen those paparazzi pictures of you two much earlier. Great pictures of the both of you. Mum and Dad had already told us about her and showed us a picture too, but they hadn't told us she was your souvenir. We asked them yesterday if they could give us one of their cars so we could visit you; we didn't want to come by plane or train - and then they told us this little matchmaking story. And that you've been together since summer."  
Ava glanced over at Martin from the other end of the kitchen island.  
"And Mum and Dad were quite proud that their little matchmaking attempt had worked out - they're very happy for you. And you've got to admit they kept it a secret for a very long time."  
Martin nodded surrendered.

"I suppose that's true - they kept their mouths shut for quite a long time." He had to smile. "So,... what do you think?" he asked them.  
"Well, we haven't met her in person yet, have we?" said Ava. "But Mum's been raving about her for what felt like two hours."  
"And Dad after her for what felt like another hour," Tembo interrupted.  
"And then they raved about you two together for what felt like a million decades," Ava added.  
"That's why we were able to get a pretty good picture after all," Tembo added. "So first of all, Ava and I agree that you've got yourself the hottest, most beautiful woman on the planet; then we agree that she's a perfect match for you; and we agree that you make one hell of a cute couple - and that it's awesome that you've obviously found your home and love of your life." he smiled. "From all the things we know about her, she really does sound just right for you, she sounds like she'd be perfect for you - from what we know, you're made for each other."  
"Two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly," Ava added, beaming. "Mum said you were upset at first because of the age... "

Martin interrupted her, shaking his head.

"Wait a minute." he said. "Well... first of all, thank you. It's nice to hear from you what I feel about her; that we seem to be just perfect for each other.", he said. "But I wasn't upset about Emma's age - I was just quite surprised that Laura was so easy about it, because she wasn't thrilled when I told her that Jeanne was ten years younger."

Ava and Tembo grinned. 

"Well, you didn't let me finish, Martin," Ava grinned. "I was about to correct myself, I was just exaggerating a bit," she smiled. "You know I also asked you back then if Jeanne wasn't a bit too young for you - and I don't think she was in general, but just not mature enough for you. Emma is younger than Jeanne, but everything we have learned about Emma so far sounds as if she is very mature and experienced for her age, very grown up, but as if she still hasn't lost the child in her," she smiled. "What I want to say - it's wonderful that you are with someone again, that you are happy; it's great that you can love again and that you feel equally loved by her, that you feel comfortable with her and that you are floating on cloud nine - with your Emma from Malta. We are very happy for you and for the two of you."  
"And what Ava also wanted to say - you look great together; we saw the selfie you must have taken just before she flew back. As I stated before, you truly are a hell of a cute couple."

Martin smiled, rubbed the back of his neck, turned to the stove, slipped the little pies into the heat of the oven.

"Do you have a good feeling?" asked Tembo. "About your very own person." he asked, meaning more the question of whether he felt she was possibly just trying to enrich herself, as it had often seemed with Jeanne and sometimes with Amanda; wanting to know if the motive of Emma’s love was simply his Uncle Martin, or the actor Martin Freeman combined with a lot of money; wanting to make sure directly with Martin that Emma sincerely loved him, him as a person, that he was indeed in good hands with her.

He drank the last of his tea, waited with Ava for an answer. 

Martin turned around again, but also cooked the desired mashed potatoes - he was very happy to not sit on the couch any longer but to stand at the cooker and oven to cook for the two of them.  
He nodded.  
"Yes, I do. And I think you've heard that from your parents already," he smiled. "You don't have to worry about me, though that's really sweet," he said gently. "I'm in very good hands with her. She stands with both feet on the ground. She's achieved a lot in her own life due to her work and passions," he said, but didn't delve into the subject for the moment, because about involving Joe and Gracie into the secret the two of them had talked about, but not about the rest of the family – he didn’t just want to reveal that she was Charlie Darlington without talking to her first. "She's just interested in me and my person - and she makes that very clear with words and gestures, makes it very clear that she genuinely loves me, loves me as... Martin, and not as an actor with a stuffed bank account."  
He smiled at the two of them, leaving the pot on the cooker alone for now - it would be fine without him for a moment.  
He came to Tembo and Ava, put his arms around their shoulders, looked at them reassuringly, knowing they worried about him all the time. 

They exchanged a hug.

Martin didn't even let them set the table, cared for them, spoiled them - he cooked for them, kept asking how they were, if he could do something good for them, kept pouring them tea they asked for; he set the table, brought them the food, sat with them, even ate a snack with them.

Together they ate - Ava and Tembo with relish, savouring every bite, not for nothing had they asked for this meal; in their opinion, their uncle could make the best mashed potatoes and vegetable pies.

Ava and Tembo let themselves be looked after and pampered, knowing that Martin really loved doing this - it was like being at home; their parents could also spoil them like a king and queen.  
They felt at home with their parents, and they also felt at home with Martin.  
In their opinion a lot of people should be a little bit like him, for he was truly a very good person with a big heart at the right place. 

They had let their conversation revolve around Emma for a while, but then changed the subject again. 

However, as they made themselves comfortable on the couch and took a selfie together, her name had come up again.  
Martin had asked them if it would be alright if he sent Emma the selfie - they had nodded.

The selfie showed Martin with his ivory skin and grey hair in the middle, beaming happily, blue eyes sparkling.  
The selfie showed a young woman and a young man with chestnut skin, with black afro-type hair, beaming and pressing their cheeks against Martin's; the deep brown eyes sparkled.

**_Em <3 – lots of love from my two chestnuts and me.  
Enjoy the birthday._ **

It took barely two minutes and a selfie was sent to London too.  
A selfie that showed Emma beaming with light brown hair; brown eyes gleaming with joy.  
A selfie that showed her grandma - slender, seemingly elegantly dressed; her shoulder-length hair was white, but voluminously styled, almost a little tousled, a wild mane that nevertheless looked very elegant; her make-up discreet and elegant; her appearance did not suggest that she had turned 75 but showed what a crazy and funny personality she had.

Martin, Ava and Tembo blinked - until now, Martin had not seen a picture of Grandma Carlotta either.  
"So, now you know that your Emma, even when being old, will still be a very attractive woman," Tembo said.  
Martin had to grin, reading the message.

_Grandma caught me on the mobile but was very happy to see your face. She asked me to ask you to send another picture with your niece and nephew. She wants a middle finger and a grumpy face from all of you._

Martin laughed with his visitors.  
"She's a very special person." he grinned at Tembo and Ava - he had been talking about Emma's grandma.  
Together they laughed heartily again - and before they could even take the selfie, a second message was sent to Martin.

 _< 3 It's lovely that you seem to have had such a surprise visit from Ava and Tembo. Say hello to them from me :-). Mum, Dad and Matteo unfortunately couldn't take part in the selfie for you because they are in a heated discussion about marble cake and can't agree whether the best topping is chocolate icing, powdered sugar or nothing._

Martin smiled at the news, then grinned with his niece and nephew, and even before they took the grumpy middle finger selfie, they said in unison:

_**"Powdered sugar!"** _

They sent the joint selfie to Emma - Martin even added three middle finger emojis underneath it. 

"What a cool granny that is," Ava grinned.  
"Her cooking motto is: the most important ingredient in cooking is a bottle of wine to enjoy," Martin grinned.

Ava and Tembo laughed while Martin sent a message to Emma.

_**By the way, we already agreed – powdered sugar is the best topping for marble cake.** _

Another selfie was sent to him - again Emma and her grandma, also showing the middle finger and looking grumpily at the camera.  
Again Martin, Ava and Tembo burst out laughing, reading Emma's messages with tears in their eyes.

 _Grandma thanks you for your birthday present and she says you have a great family sitting on your sofa :-).  
You saved our relationship with your answer to the marble cake situation ;-). Powdered sugar forever!  
<3_

Martin smiled, then grinned, hearing his niece and nephew laugh again.  
"She's right,... I’ve got a pretty great family sitting here - and hopefully they'll stay for a few days," he said, glancing at Ava and then at Tembo.  
The two young adults nodded with a gleam in their eyes.

Tembo took the mobile phone out of Martin’s hands, typed a message for Emma.

 _ **Tembo here - the uncle on the couch is exquisite first class. Best wishes from Ava and me to you and your family. Enjoy the birthday of your cool granny, we'll take care of the ivory face for the time being ;-).**_

_:-D :-D  
Give ivory face a kiss from me._

_**Here's Martin again, they did the job, even twice. Enjoy the evening with your family, darling. Love you <3** _

_You enjoy your time with Ava and Tembo!  
<3 I love you too, ħanini <3_

Martin smiled with his heart pounding, placing the phone on the table in front of him.

"Ivory face gets two more kisses, I'd say. We have some catching up to do, after all." smirked Ava, could see her uncle and Tembo smirking too.  
She breathed a kiss on Martin’s cheek; Tembo breathed a kiss into the grey hair.  
"I don't want my two chestnuts to come away empty-handed," Martin grinned after the kisses.  
He gave both, Tembo and Ava a soft peck on the cheek.


	29. Good Morning Maltland

_**\- Saturday, October/24 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Emma's Penthouse -** _

Mild air brushed through the open floor-to-ceiling window in the bedroom.  
Mild air brushed through the white long curtains, swirling them.  
Mild air brushed through the room, gently caressing Emma's sleeping body.

A smile was on her dreaming face - a man from England was just playing the leading role in her sleeping dream. 

Very gently, a soft sound rang out - a ringing, a waking ring.

The dream was fading, her body became more alert, her ears became more aware of the ringing.  
One eye opened slowly and sleepily, the smile remained on her face.  
Her arm reached out to the laptop that stood in bed with her; the index finger operated the mousepad; the mouse pointer accepted the incoming video call from London. 

The laptop showed her the time.  
10:02 - in Malta.  
09:02 - in London.  
She enlarged the image from London - it now took up the entire screen.

Emma raised her hand, rubbed her face, now had both eyes open.  
She looked sleepily at the screen, smiled, waved slowly and sleepily.  
And then, at last, the warm nasal voice that she loved so much, that she loved to listen to for hours, that often gave her goosebumps, that almost always made her heart pound faster, entered her ear.

"Good morning, cute sleepyhead." breathed Martin's voice calmly.

Emma smiled, seeing him still in bed too - he too was still under the covers, with his head on a soft pillow, his grey hair slightly dishevelled, his eyes still tired.  
She smiled and beamed tiredly at him, running her hand through her hair.  
Sleepily she glanced at London, reached out, let her fingers brush Martin's cheek.

"Good morning, ħanini," she murmured affectionately. "I caressed your cheek,... it felt nice and warm."  
"Hmmm,... I felt it." he breathed the sweet little lie. "Your hand felt nice and warm too.", he purred another lie - which wasn't really a lie at all, because he could still remember how amazing her touches had felt in August. 

Martin pursed his lips.  
Emma pursed her lips.  
Together they kissed into the air.  
Together they imagined feeling each other's lips.

Again a soft smacking sounded - they had shared a second kiss. 

Emma brushed her hair behind her ear, looked at Martin, smiled. Her brown eyes sparkled softly and calmly, resting on Martin.  
"I like it here with you,... in Maltland." she breathed the fusion of Malta and England.  
Martin looked to her, the smile on his face widening.  
"Is this Maltland? Whenever there are two cameras between us?"  
"Yes... this is Maltland."  
"I like it in Maltland - but I'd much rather be in England or Malta with you," he breathed softly. "But as long as England and Malta are a bit off limits, I'm enjoying my time with you in Maltland," he breathed.  
Emma smiled, looking dreamily at him. 

She looked at Martin, who was running his hands through his hair, rubbing his eyes, then smiling back at her, blissful and relaxed, lovestruck and gentle.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked.  
"Hmmm, I did."  
"I hope I didn't pull you out of a beautiful dream."  
"You did,... but seeing you without dreaming is more beautiful - although in the dream you don't actually know you're dreaming. In the dream we were together, very close; we were cuddling, and you were caressing me, kissing my hair, and you wanted to whisper something in my ear, it started with, 'I lov...' - then you woke me up."  
"Oh, I think I know what I wanted to tell you... " he breathed - head coming closer to the laptop, lips smiling charmingly, his voice a whisper. "I love you, Em."  
Emma felt the goosebumps on her naked body; a shiver ran down her spine, she shivered pleasantly under the thin duvet.  
Again she heard Martin's voice, very soft and calm, very charming and flirty, a little cheeky.  
"I like to see that my voice and my words give you goosebumps and send a pleasant shiver down your spine."  
Emma glanced at London, glanced at Martin lying in bed - she smiled blissfully, warmly.  
"And I like that your voice and your words can do just that," she purred. Sending him a kiss, she said to Hampstead. "I love you, Martin." she purred warmly and lovingly. "And I hope you slept well too."

With her eyes she followed his movements, with her eyes she flitted over his appearance - she felt as if she knew every little wrinkle, every little beauty mark, every little imperfection in his face, and yet she always found something new when she looked intently, when she concentrated only on his face.  
She loved that face, loved every little wrinkle, every little beauty spot - for example, the little dot on his nose, on his left nostril. She loved every imperfection, loved the bags under his eyes, every single grey hair on his head, every single grey hair in his beard, even though he had clean-shaved cheeks right now.  
She loved that face, loved those expressive blue eyes, loved that nose, loved his fine rough yet also soft lips - even the ears she loved. 

"You were sleepwalking and caught a little mole?" asked Emma irritably as Martin's voice came through to her again.

Martin laughed heartily, meanwhile propping his head on his palm - his laugh sounding warm and happy.

"Well, that took a while," he laughed. "Since you clearly weren't listening to me, I made up a story; you missed part of the story - glad you're back with me now," he grinned broadly. "Dreaming while talking to a person older than you is punishable in Maltland," he grinned, amused. "What do you have to say for your defence?"

Emma smirked in amusement, liking the little game.  
"I was actually dreaming and not listening to you - I was too busy admiring your face. I love what I see... all of it," she breathed. "So what punishment do I face under Maltland’s law?"  
Martin smiled flattered - it was good to hear that she loved his 49-year-old self, all facets of him.  
"The anonymous complaint to the Maltland Police has been withdrawn."  
Emma smiled with relief, playfully wiping the sweat from her forehead.  
"Well, I'm very lucky."  
Martin nodded with a gentle smirk.  
"Yes. Who knows what kind of weird... buffu that was," he now grinned with Emma. "He must have slept very well though, I heard."  
Emma smirked - a smacking kiss she sent to him. 

They looked at each other, gave each other an air kiss, winked.

"If it was THE Buffu from Maltland... I know him. That's a pretty great guy, a cheeky and grumpy teddy who likes to swear and loves to cuddle. He's also constantly seen on cinema screens, the internet and the telly."  
"I've never heard of him, and there aren't that many people living in Maltland," he said, puzzled, then shrugged his shoulders. "Is he worth meeting?"  
"The Buffu from Maltland?" asked Emma, nodding at the same time. "I highly recommend it - I wouldn't want to miss him, and he's one of the warmest and funniest people I've ever met. I could rave about him for days, but you'd better meet him for yourself - a stunning man. There’s so much warmth and love in him; I wished there were more people like him,... then the world would be a better place." she smiled. 

Martin smiled, eyeing Emma – his heart was beating so fast it wasn’t measurable any longer; unmeasurable warmth rushed through his body.

"Oh Em,... I love you so much." he breathed touched to the south-eastern region of Maltland.

Emma smiled, enjoying her fast-beating heart, enjoying the tingle in her stomach - she loved those declarations of love he sent her when he was touched by her words or her actions; she loved being called Em by him; she loved hearing the emotion in his voice and seeing it in his eyes. 

An air kiss she sent to the north-western region of Maltland. 

Their eyes smiled at each other.  
Their lips pulled into a shared warm smile.  
Hearts pounded in the same quick beat.  
The butterflies danced swing.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_**\- North-western region of Maltland -**_

They were still in bed, enjoying the slow start to the morning.  
10:27 am - the clock showed in the north-western region of Maltland.  
11:27 am - the clock showed in the south-eastern region of Maltland.  
They were still chatting, still sending soft air kisses to each other. 

Martin beamed at Emma, turning on his side again after lying on his back for a while. 

"I miss you.", he breathed. "In many ways." he murmured, eyes darting over the bare cleavage that the duvet had exposed.  
"What are you missing most right now?" murmured Emma, aware of his gaze, able to sense where his eyes were at the moment - lightly pulling the light duvet a little lower, revealing almost her breasts.  
"Generally... you, every little piece of you." he breathed, licking his lips. "But if I'm honest, what I miss most right now is your naked body and your caresses on my body." he purred, letting his eyes wander to her eyes. 

He looked at Emma, feeling arousal inside him, feeling the lust inside him, also clearly feeling the erection that was hidden by his boxers and the duvet.  
He couldn't help it, he couldn't resist - and it wasn't the first time his hand had wandered into his boxers while he was skyping in bed with his new girlfriend.

He licked his lips, pulled his boxers down a little, not yet stroking his erection.  
He swallowed, licked his lips again when he heard Emma's voice.

"I miss your naked body too, as well as your caresses. I would love to kiss and nibble on your neck now, letting my hand wander all over your body."  
"May I let my hand wander?" he asked lustfully. "While I enjoy your kisses and nibbling? While you imagine me caressing you with my hand and fingers all over your body?"

The blanket had slipped down a bit, revealing his bare chest. 

"Yes.", Emma murmured - letting her own hand wander, letting the fingers brush over her cleavage, letting the fingers caresses over her covered breasts, stroking down to the belly that Martin couldn’t see; but the movements made it clear that the hand was slipping under the covers.

Martin swallowed, licked his lips, eyed her intensely, let his eyes dart over the screen, tried to see as much as possible, but the movements he could perceive on her upper body made him suspect that her fingers were no longer caressing an innocent part of her body.  
His fingers stroked his erection, for a moment he closed his eyes. 

They had already lain here in his bed, side by side, in the morning - kissing and cuddling, chatting and flirting, hands wandering.  
On the day of Emma's departure they had lain here in bed, side by side - kissing, their hands wandering, playing with their fingers; her hand had been wrapped around his erection, giving him a glorious climax with slow but intense movements; his fingers had penetrated her, his thumb had rubbed her clit, and he too had given her a glorious and thigh-trembling orgasm. 

They had also lain in bed, each with the other, the laptop in bed, enjoying their own caresses, imagining the other performing the caresses, watching the other.  
He also enjoyed this kind of sex with her - although he had never tried this kind of sex before.  
Of course he had masturbated before, thinking of Amanda for many years when he had been away from home; thinking of Jeanne for some time, who had called her home Los Angeles.  
Of course he had - he loved sex, he needed sex, even if it wasn't at the top of the list; but he hadn't had a camera present with either Amanda or Jeanne, he hadn't masturbated with them, watching them, they had each done it on their own, without skyping.

He enjoyed it with Emma - it was her who had seduced him to do it via Skype; she had wanted to see him do it, to hear him do it; and he had to admit he loved seeing and hearing her masturbate, because he loved to see and hear Emma having sex; it was wonderful to watch her masturbate and to imagine it was him who was touching her. 

He swallowed, looking at her at the screen, enjoying the lustful glint in her eyes, enjoying the open mouth, enjoying the touches he could perceive - there wasn't much to see, but that made it even more exciting, and yet he secretly knew what she was doing, because he knew very well what she liked and didn't like from their nights together, from exploring and probing.

His hand was not idle itself.  
He caressed himself slowly and intensively, played with his thumb, stroked away pre-cum again and again.  
He watched Emma, imagined feeling and sensing her with his fingers, imagining it was her hand caressing him, imagining it was her thumb teasing him and stroking away those drops of pleasure again and again - knowing that she also quite liked licking away those drops of pleasure; what could he say, he liked it too. 

A moan escaped him, his mouth remained open, his eyes were lustfully and seductively fixed on Emma, you could see he was enjoying himself very much.

"I love to see and hear you like this," Emma murmured - she too licked her lips, she too moaned with pleasure and lust, even arching her back, making it very clear that she was feeling a lot of pleasure right now.

Martin couldn't take his eyes off her, wanting to just watch her for a while, but he couldn't stop his own caresses at the moment, too much lust and excitement was rushing through his body.

"I feel the same way," he purred and moaned, licking his lips again. "It really turns me on to know what's going on under your blanket, how wet you are and what you're enjoying - that you're tickling yourself, that you're teasing your swollen clit with the rubbing of your fingertips, that your fingers are penetrating you again and again, that you’re playing with yourself with lust and pleasure, that you’re leaking,…" his nasal voice murmured seductively.

He could see Emma swallowing hard, saw the pleasurable shuddering, guessed that now her thighs were trembling a little more too.

"I also love to know what's happening under your blanket - that you've pulled your boxer shorts down just a little, that your hand is wrapped around your erection, that you’re stroking yourself slowly but very intensely, that your fingers are caressing your erection very teasingly every now and then, that they're tickling your balls; that your thumb is pleasurably spreading the drops of pleasure, sometimes softly, sometimes more intensely, sometimes with a rub; that for brief moments not only does your hand move with pleasure, but also impatiently and hungrily your hips. ", she said lasciviously.

Martin swallowed, his mouth dry - and his hips did indeed thrust impatiently and hungrily for a few moments along with his hand.

"Fuck!" he moaned loudly and indignantly, enjoying and savouring – the orgasm was within reach, but he wanted to enjoy this much longer.

He heard her voice, heard her moaning his name with pleasure - she gasped, she even raved over his talented fingers, even though it was her who was caressing herself - her eyes were closed for the moment, but Martin was loving the sight of her. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_**\- South-eastern region of Maltland -**_

Gasping and panting, moaning and purring, they had savoured their time in bed - watching each other, teasing and pleasuring themselves, letting the other know over and over again that one knew what exactly the other was doing right now.  
Gasping and panting, moaning and purring, they had intensely enjoyed the pleasure and the satisfying orgasm.

Loudly and indignantly, without any restraint, they had enjoyed the climax. 

Exhausted, they had stayed in bed for a few more minutes, then got up together, enjoyed a quick but refreshing shower and made themselves some breakfast. 

Emma sat down on the balcony chair, cross-legged on it - teacup in her hand and damp hair, she sat in the sunshine and beamed at Martin, who also still had damp hair and was sitting at his kitchen table.

"Well sweetie." the nasal voice breathed lovingly. "There you are again at last." the voice breathed warmly and missing.  
"I couldn't make up my mind about the tea," she smiled apologetically.  
"I will always wait for you."

Emma smiled, ran a hand through her damp hair - she smiled blissfully and contentedly at Martin, who looked equally blissful and contented.  
And in his eyes, too, she could still see the sparkle of the climax they had experienced - a reason why she, too, was smiling so blissfully and contentedly. 

A kiss she breathed to him.

"Good morning again," she smiled.  
"Hmmm, good morning.", Martin smiled. "Let's enjoy breakfast in Maltland.", he winked. 

They sent one last kiss to each other by air, and then they both sipped at their cup of tea and started their breakfast and late 'morning' at 12:16am/11:16am in Maltland.


	30. 24 Days

_**\- Thursday, November/12 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

"I've been thinking," Martin said, glancing at the iPad, glancing at Malta.

It was evening, dark outside, his stomach filled with a delicious dinner.  
He sat in the bathtub, the hot water caressing his body.  
On the bathtub shelf, the iPad leaned against the integrated book stopper - a glass of red wine was also standing on the bamboo shelf. 

He had made himself comfortable in the bathtub.  
He was enjoying the hot water, braving the lousy weather outside the front door - rain and storm.  
He looked at Emma, who was also sitting in the bathtub, who was also having wine, her iPad was also leaning against the book stopper of a bathtub shelf, and it was also raining at her place today. 

"What were you thinking about?" asked Emma, tilting her head; eyes scrutinising him, trying to figure out what direction the conversation would take - eyes betraying fear and unease, as if she worried it might be a conversation about their relationship.

Martin smiled, tilted his head, then looked apologetic, for he recognised Emma's uncomfortable, dismissive gaze.

"Sorry,... I didn't mean to plant any unpleasant thoughts in your head. It's nothing to worry about." he smiled reassuringly, could see relaxation in her gaze again. "I was thinking about you and your birthday," he said softly. "Your birthday is in exactly one month."  
"That's really nothing to worry about - you had me panicking for a second," she smiled.  
"Well, I really didn't want to do that, but I still like it a bit. If I can make you panic with such a thought, it means I mean a lot to you, that I am very important to you, and that you don't want to lose me."  
"That's true," she smiled. "And since you like that, I can also tell that you don't want to lose me because I'm important to you, because I mean a lot to you."  
"Bull's eye, beautiful naked woman from Malta." he winked flirtatiously - he could actually only make out her face and part of her cleavage, and yet there was the knowledge that she was naked, that her beautiful naked body was sitting in the bathtub.

He flirtatiously winked at her again, saw her flattered smile, saw that she also had a compliment on her lips, but he charmingly interrupted her before she could say it.

"Because you mean a lot to me and I really do care about you, of course I miss you too. A lot. You can't imagine how much I miss you. And since I can't really stand to be without you any longer, but unfortunately I still have some work to do, I'd like to come and see you in December," he breathed. "I've been thinking about that. We don't know what it's going to be like in December, whether there will be other restrictions again, but I'd at least like to try and visit you for a fortnight in December... during your birthday. I'd really like to enjoy a bit of the Christmas time with you - without that pesky barrier."

Emma's eyes lit up - she beamed at him in London, her brown eyes already glowing with anticipation.  
And since Martin had simply interrupted her just before complimenting him with those great words and that great thought, she now made up for it.

"That handsome naked man from England who's sitting in the hot bath with me right now wants to come and see me?" she beamed.  
"Yes, he'd love to visit you, even if he failed in his attempt to stop your flattering compliment," Martin winked.  
Emma smirked - sitting up a little more, coming closer to the camera, a sweet smile had settled on her lips, which she pursed; she sent him a peck.  
"I would be very happy if you would come and see me, ħanini," she breathed in a joyful voice. "Because I miss you very much too. I miss you, I miss you very much, and if this virus hadn't got in the way, I would have visited you again long ago."

She sent him another kiss, beaming at the camera - talking again.

"But with the numbers increasing again, the question whether it's really a good idea to get on a plane crosses the mind - no matter for whom. I think we all feel that way. You want to visit someone badly and it might be possible, but then sanity still comes into play."  
"I agree," Martin nodded. "I've been thinking about it for a while too, especially because the numbers are increasing. But I miss you so much. I love skyping with you, and I love pretending we can bath together or have dinner up close, that we're actually sitting next to each other without Skype. But the truth is, you're not sitting in the bathtub with me right now and I'm not sitting in the bathtub with you either. It's a technology that I don't want to miss right now, but it's just not the same as actually seeing each other. I can't feel you right now, I can't sense you, I can't smell you; I can't hug you, I can't caress you, I can't cuddle you or kiss you. But I would love to. I really, really need you to be near me.", he said frankly, without sounding dramatic - he was simply speaking the truth.  
"It's not the same," she nodded. "It's a nice idea, but unfortunately it's nothing more. Unfortunately, when I touch your face right now, I don't feel the warm cheek, only a cold screen." she breathed. "I'd much rather feel the warm cheek." she added. "You're welcome here any time, Martin - and I'd really love to exchange a hug with you in December, a kiss - lots of them; lots of physical closeness."

Martin smiled, ran his hand through his hair - it wasn't just the water that warmed him, it was also Emma's sight, Emma's words and the gentle loving smile. 

"At the moment I am allowed to travel to Malta with a negative Covid test. I just have to get tested 72 hours before and then I can come to you. Due to the work on set, I have been tested again and again in the last few weeks anyway and so far everything has been fine - and I am otherwise sticking to the existing rules and trying to stay at home as much as possible. Malta is essential for survival right now, though," he smiled softly and winked. "I don't think the negative test will cause us any trouble, we just have to hope that the UK doesn't get on the Red List - that could become a problem as the numbers don't look good at the moment." he sighed. "Still, since it's actually unreasonable to travel, I checked with Air Malta - because the flights wouldn't be profitable if they left the entire middle row empty, they generally offer all seats; but I can book and pay for multiple seats,... and then specify that I'm just one passenger."

Emma tilted her head, had listened intently to Martin, now nodded.

"It will always be uncertain at the moment what changes there will be in the next few days or weeks. No matter when we decide to visit each other, the risk will remain that it might not work out due to a travel ban." she said. "It's still nice that we're trying it." she smiled. "So you want to book an extra seat then, just to be on the safe side and to keep the distance?"  
"It will be very sad if it goes down the drain, but I don't want to leave it without trying," he said gently. "I love you, Emma. And skyping isn't enough for me - as nice as it is." he breathed lovingly, running his wet hand through his hair again - the water was still nice and warm. "I would book the seat in the middle row too, maybe just the whole row; then no one sits next to me at all - and maybe there won’t be many passengers. Besides, all passengers are obliged to show the negative test before boarding, which means that all passengers on board should actually be negative... if they don't catch it at the airport. At the end of the day, there's a little risk everywhere at the moment."  
"Yes, there is a risk everywhere, no matter what we are doing. The airports are still doing their best to follow all the rules and make travelling as safe as possible at the moment," she said.

She looked at Martin, tilted her head, smiled.

"Martin,... the world is a bit upside down right now. I really appreciate you coming to see me, and that would be the best birthday present for me this year - to see you, to feel you, to smell you, to taste you, to be with you. I really love you very much. I'm enjoying this very extraordinary relationship at the moment and it's great that it's working so well, despite the distance and these travel difficulties. I miss you and you’re truly missed very much; but I want you to know one thing. If everything works out and the flight to Malta is booked, but your head is having doubts and you decide to stay home, I won't be angry with you or disappointed in you. If you change your mind because you're afraid you'll catch it and possibly infect others, that's okay. Alright?"

Martin sat up as well, tilted his head, smiled, looked at Emma. 

"Thank you for those words and understanding," he breathed. "Why don't we agree to give it a try and possibly change our plan again on the spur of the moment. Right now, I'd like to feel excited about seeing you in December... and I'd also like to feel anticipation about meeting your family," he breathed, covertly asking if he could meet her family during his stay.

So far he had told his family about Emma and their relationship, but so far he had only introduced Emma to Gracie and Joe - Laura and Lamar didn't count, and he hadn't really introduced Ava and Tembo during their brief WhatsApp chat either.  
He knew Emma had told her family about him, that her family knew about him and their relationship, but so far he only knew Emma's family due to her stories - as well as Emma only knew most of his family due to stories.  
So far they had hoped that the virus would subside somewhat, that Emma would be able to come to England again to meet his family in person – as it should be.  
So far they had hoped that they could do the same with Emma's family.

Emma blew a kiss to London. 

"I always liked your idea of meeting our families locally - just the way it should be. And you and I are just going to forget about this virus. I can't wait to welcome you to Malta, show you my city, show you my country and introduce you to my family," she breathed softly.  
Martin smiled, blew a kiss to Sliema.  
"Forgot there was a virus already," he smiled and winked. "I can't wait to see you either, to get to know your city and country, and your family. And maybe with my family, we'll just use that pesky little barrier after all, if what we've just forgotten still keeps us busy in the near future."

Emma smiled, beamed at him, sent him another peck, eyed his appearance, enjoyed the bare skin she could glimpse.

"When may I welcome you to Malta, ħanini?" she beamed.  
"I was thinking about the 5th of December - I'm afraid I can't come earlier," he beamed softly.  
"That's only 23 days away, with today... 24..." she beamed. "That's 24 days too many, but I'll somehow get through these days without you." she winked.  
"That are indeed 24 days too many," Martin winked. "Good thing, there's that pesky little barrier." he said, tapping his iPad, tapping her nose. "Your nose may feel hard and cold, but at least I can see and hear you."

They smiled at each other, sent a kiss.

There was euphoria about seeing each other again in 24 days - even though it was not clear at this point whether that reunion would actually happen.  
Nevertheless, the eyes were shining, nevertheless the heart, the belly and the head were beaming.

There was anticipation - anticipation of a reunion in 24 days.


	31. A Little Venice In London

_**\- Sunday, November/29 - 2020, England, London, Hampstead, Martin's house -** _

Peace and silence.

Peace and silence paced through the English house near Hampstead Heath.  
Warmth filled the large living room.  
Smells of biscuits rushed through the English house from the kitchen.

Martin sank into the armchair, leaned back, closed his eyes, stretched his legs towards the fireplace.  
The fire crackled and gave not only a wonderful warmth but also beautiful light.  
He had closed the curtains in the living room, he didn't feel like watching the rain today. 

Peace and silence crept through his house - for the first time since the morning. 

In the morning, he had let Emma wake him up via Skype - he had stayed in bed with her for a while, chatting sleepily with her before they had taken a shower and had breakfast together.  
They had savoured the morning in bed, had showered quickly, and savoured the breakfast. 

Shortly after the lovely breakfast with Emma, his children had called him, had wanted to chat with him - and they had done so until Amanda had ended the call with their lunch. 

As soon as he had hung up, his siblings had called him one after the other to wish him a happy first Advent.  
First he had spoken to his brother Tim on the phone.  
His brother Benedict and his wife had also skyped with him.  
Then Jamie had also contacted him via Skype from his flat in London.  
And last but not least, he had skyped with Laura and Lamar, baking biscuits with them via Skype until just now - he had been especially pleased that his niece Ava and his nephew Tembo had also joined in, as they were spending the weekend at home.

Pleasant warmth caressed his feet and legs, his body and face. 

Smiling, he leaned back in the armchair.  
The morning had been fantastic, as had the phone calls and skyping with his siblings and children.  
And the baking had been great fun too, even if it had only been via Skype - nevertheless he had had fun, and the joy of seeing Ava and Tembo had been just as great.  
Smiling, he lounged in the armchair.

The peace and silence was disturbed.

He heard the typical warbling of Skype.

Martin opened his eyes, frowned - he wasn't supposed to skype again until tonight.  
Slowly he got up, walked from the living room to the kitchen, because here the laptop was still standing on the kitchen island.  
Martin grinned at the screen when he realised who was calling him. 

He answered the video call, picked up the laptop and went back to the living room with it.  
"Hello hello, Venice boy" he grinned at Simon, who was filming in Venice for the final bits of Mission Impossible 7.  
Simon waved at him, euphoric and grinning.  
"Hello there, my adorable little silver fox." grinned Simon.  
Martin grinned, shook his head in amusement, sat back in the armchair - placing the laptop on his lap.

"Now that I see you - thanks for the postcard, it arrived yesterday, I just totally forgot to text you," Martin said with a smile. "Why did you send me a postcard?"  
"Ah, great! Well, you’re welcome, my friend," Simon rejoiced. "Oh, I thought you'd be pleased. Actually, you're always pleased to receive cards - whether it’s Christmas cards, birthday cards or postcards. And during this extraordinary time, I wanted to give you an extra treat."  
"Thank you - I was really pleased to receive your little greeting from Venice yesterday."

The two men smiled at each other. 

"It's good to see you, Simon. I hope you're having a lovely first Advent in Venice."  
"It's good to see you too, Martin. But I have to say Skype is starting to annoy me," he smirked. "It's been a nice day so far. I hope yours is too."  
"I'm very grateful for Skype - it keeps you from touching me all the time, too," Martin smirked.  
"Oh come on, you like it when I touch and pet you, don't you?" laughed Simon, wiggling his eyebrows.  
Martin sent him an air kiss, grinned at him afterwards - and he too got a grinning air kiss.  
"My day has been nice so far, too, by the way. Until a few minutes ago, I was still baking cookies via Skype. With Laura, Lamar and Ava and Tembo."  
"That sounds great! Are you two chestnuts back in their parents' nest again?"; Simon smiled with interest.  
"Yes, they want to stay for a few more days too - they can attend their lectures online, after all."  
"When was the last time you actually saw them?"  
"They were here only recently. They came to see me at the beginning of October," Martin smiled.  
"Oh lovely, that's great! The visits this year somehow feel a thousand times better than they normally do. This year one has noticed once again how valuable it is to be able to visit each other."  
"I agree with you there. Visits are very valuable - and I'm glad that we've all been able to enjoy at least a few visits this year; that we've been able to spend some time with family and friends despite the extraordinary situation."

Simon nodded in affirmation - had last seen Martin up close on New Year's Eve, a few days before Martin had left for Los Angeles. 

"Speaking of spending time with others," Simon said as if he had reached a point he was dying to talk about. He held his phone up to the camera, showing Martin a picture. "Who is this young pretty woman at your side?"

Martin squinted, looking at the picture he could see on the camera - it was one of the paparazzi pictures that had been taken in August; Emma and he were visible in it, on their way to Hampstead Heath; their faces were clearly visible, they were laughing together.

"Tell me, are you googling me, or how did you just saw this photo now - that was in August."  
"I didn't google you this morning, I just scrolled through the vastness of the internet and then I might have typed in your name on Tumblr - and that's where the picture popped up."  
"Then you just stalked me on Tumblr, Pegg. It's the same thing, isn't it?" grinned Martin.  
"Tumblr and Google are completely different things," Simon grinned. "On Tumblr, people are speculating that she might be your girlfriend. What can you tell me about that? The fans on Tumblr disagree - some think it was totally cute that there was new footage; others are convinced she is your new flame; some rebuke the others for respecting your privacy and not caring at all who this woman is; and others hope she's not your girlfriend because she looks so young, and they think you are probably having a mid-life crisis," Simon informed him. "I for one, respect your privacy, but since I'm your friend, your absolute favourite and most beloved friend, I want to know who she is, and I really hope you'll tell me that this young woman in the photos is your new flame."

Martin tilted his head, having listened to Simon's words.  
When he himself had found out about the paparazzi pictures, he had guessed that there would be speculation, that there would be different opinions among the fans, that there would also be fans who didn't want to see the woman at his side, especially because of her age, and that they would immediately accuse him of having a mid-life crisis.  
He didn't care - he was happy about the nice and kind speculations and about the support, but he really didn't care about the other comments and speculations.  
He was happy, overjoyed - and he himself knew that a mid-life crisis was not even waving at him from afar.  
He simply didn't care at all - it was his love life, and he was more than happy with it at the moment.  
He remained sitting comfortably in his armchair, completely unconcerned; with Jeanne and also Amanda, these paparazzi pictures and the wild speculations had annoyed him very much, with Emma he no longer cared about that, simply enjoyed their intense love for each other.  
She brought a lot of warmth, love and calmness into his life.

Even though he had already told his family about Emma, he hadn't told friends anything concrete, or actually anything at all.

"The young woman in the photo is Emma. And Emma is my new girlfriend," he smiled relaxedly at Simon.

Simon's eyes glowed euphorically.  
"That was easy - and you're sitting there very relaxed too. If you're sitting there that relaxed and you answer my question right away, then you must feel pretty damn comfortable with her." he said, beaming - he put the phone down, clapped his hands joyfully, reached out towards the camera as if grabbing Martin's cheeks. "Aw! I'm so happy for you!"  
"Thank you - and yes I feel very comfortable with her," Martin said in a warm voice.  
He smiled at Simon.

Simon beamed.  
"Come on, tell me a bit about her," Simon said curiously. "How did you meet her during the lockdown? Or did you know her before? Do you enjoy the lockdown together, at home, in bed.", Simon grinned with waggling eyebrows.  
Martin grinned.  
"Your curiosity sucks, but I'd miss it extremely too," he smirked now.  
"I'm all ears," Simon grinned.  
He held his hands behind his ears as if that would allow him to hear even more.

Martin smirked, looked at him in amusement - sighed and made himself a little more comfortable in the armchair.  
"So, her name is Emma,... she's 30, an artist and photographer and she owns a record store with her brother. She was 'introduced' to me - Laura and Lamar met her on holiday. They got on really well and when they got back home Laura forwarded Emma's Skype contact to me," Martin told Simon. "So, we met via Skype."  
"That's a very unusual way to meet someone," Simon smiled. "You look great together. And I think an artist and photographer who also loves records suits you very well. I wouldn't have cared about the age at all - you both look very happy and very harmonious, what does the age matter. She really is a beautiful woman - and since you've confirmed that you're very comfortable with her, it seems she's not just beautiful on the outside."  
Martin smiled at Simon, pleased at Simon's genuine joy and sincere words.  
"She really is an absolute sweetheart," he beamed enamoured at Simon.  
"Someone is floating on the fluffiest cloud nine one can find."  
"That's an understatement," Martin admitted honestly.  
"I like that you admit so openly that you're freshly in love and totally smitten by her; that you’re soppy on her - I've known you for a very long time; the fact that you speak so openly about your feelings without holding back or toning them down says more than a thousand words. It shows me very clearly how happy and content you are right now, and how secure and comfortable you feel with her," Simon's voice beamed.  
Martin beamed happily at him, running a hand through his grey hair.

Simon smiled joyfully at London, talking again. 

"I can hardly put into words how happy I am for you right now. It's really nice that you're no longer alone - and especially that you're so happily in love. It really pleases me to see you beaming like this," he breathed. "Are you enjoying this unusual time together at your place?"  
Martin tilted his head - it felt good to see Simon being happy for him.  
"Unfortunately, we are not - or not exactly. We are enjoying the unusual time somewhat exceptionally and extraordinary;... at her place and my place - at the same time; in Maltland,… as we call it. She's Maltese - and she lives in Malta. She came to see me after the travel bans had been suspended;... she came to London for a fortnight. But in the end she stayed another week. A few hours after those paparazzi pictures were taken, we became a couple."  
Simon tilted his head as well.  
"From Malta? My parents in-law have been there many times, I heard it's quite beautiful. And they shoot a lot of films there. Actually, it's not that far away, it's a shame that damn virus is in your way now," he said and then smiled. "It's nice that she visited you. I guess there was already a lot of chemistry between the two of you via Skype, so it's all the nicer that there was so much chemistry up close, too, that what were probably two fiercely flirting friends have become a very cute and loving couple."  
Martin smiled.  
"Laura and Lamar also raved a lot about Malta, and Emma took me to Valletta via Skype on one of our dates - it had been a great trip, and everything I saw looked really stunningly beautiful... " he said and was interrupted.  
"Especially the tour guide, Mr. Martin Freeman thought," Simon smirked.  
Martin grinned and smirked, ignoring Simon's comment.  
"You're right, there was already an amazing chemistry via Skype and we've actually been flirting a lot since we first made contact - it was just an instant fit. We were both just worried that the other wouldn't be okay with the age. I was worried that I would be too old for her; she was worried that she could be too young for me."

Simon tilted his head, shaking his head in disbelief.

"There's a romantic crackle and you've been flirting since second one, and then you're still worried about age. You look fucking happy - you can't get that amorous grin and glow off your face; and if she can make you that happy, then surely you make her incredibly happy too. That's all that matters. Just stop worrying about two numbers," Simon smiled. "By the way, you look insanely good together - to put it in other words…," he grinned. "… Well, you really are a handsome man, and we don't even need to talk about Emma, she looks like a goddess. Together you look overwhelmingly hot and insanely cute at the same time," Simon enthused.

Martin smiled happily, beamed, grinned, smiled flattered, had to grin and then laughed when he heard Simon's last comment.

"The love of your life?" asked Simon after a wink.  
"Yes.", Martin breathed.  
"Your home?", Simon asked again with a warm smile.  
"Yes.", Martin breathed again.

Simon smiled warmly with an enthusiastic glow.

"Well, Laura and Lamar have brought you a truly extraordinary and stunning souvenir."  
"They did - and even when my sister raved about it, I wouldn't have believed it would actually be that extraordinary and stunning."

Simon was still smiling to London, genuinely and sincerely happy for his long-time friend - he had more than earned a love like this.  
Eighteen years of age difference was generally a lot, there was no denying that. But what did that difference say about the quality and purity of love?  
Love is love - that could not only refer to interracial relationships or to same-sex relationships; it had to and should also refer to age.  
What did race, gender or age matter - there were more important things in a relationship and quite different aspects that showed how pure and sincere, how intense and deep the love really was.

"So when are you going to see each other again?" asked Simon with a smile.  
"I'm going to Malta next Saturday - for a fortnight," Martin beamed.  
"Fantastic! Thank God you're allowed to enter. Excited already?"  
"With a negative test result, I'll be allowed in - I have to go for a smear test on Wednesday," Martin said. "And I'm excited,... very excited,... I can't wait to see her again - without Skype. I'm very grateful that there's Skype and FaceTime and all that stuff, but it's not the same – there’re touches missing." he said - could see Simon nodding with a smile at first, now he saw him grinning with waggling eyebrows. "I don't mean that touch, I meant hugs and kisses."

Simon laughed, infecting Martin as well.

"That may well be what you meant - and I believe you. But I'm sure you also miss the touching I was just thinking about."  
"Of course I do," Martin grinned.  
"Now you can play the game I gave you - last year. Or have you already got rid of my funny little gift." grinned Simon.

Martin laughed again, now infecting Simon with it.

"We already played that game - but I only unwrapped it with her. In August. Interesting game."  
"Yeah? Did it got hot or are the cards pretty harmless - I didn't get to see the cards for myself, after all."  
"It got very hot pretty quickly," Martin said. "Outside, by the campfire," he added. "After a while we preferred to go inside and to the bedroom. There are also harmless cards, but many are... anything but harmless. There's really nothing missing - not even different positions."  
"Well, then it was actually worth buying it," Simon grinned. "Did you have fun?"  
"A lot of fun," Martin grinned. "It was exciting because neither of us knew what was going to happen next," Martin said. "Now let's stop talking about my sex life, I have to do without Emma for another week," he grinned. 

Grinning, the two friends looked at each other, but then actually changed the subject of their conversation a little bit - Emma still remained the number one topic.

Simon grilled Martin enthusiastically, hearing his friend gush and rave all the time.  
He liked Martin's gushing and raving, liked getting to know the new girlfriend from Malta - and the more he learned about her, their dates and the visit in London, the more he realised that she was indeed an absolute sweetheart and perfect match for one of his best and longest friends.  
For Martin.  
The more he learned, the more he realised that Emma was exactly what Martin wanted, imagined, needed; that they had clearly found their perfect match in each other; that Martin had indeed found his home.  
Enthusiastically, he kept talking about Emma - seeing Martin that happy and content, lovestruck and smitten, balanced and relaxed, comfortable and carefree was an absolute feast for his eyes, his head, his heart and his stomach; and with that, Emma had already scored a trillion plus points on the Martin’s-girlfriend account.  
He kept up the conversation enthusiastically and euphorically, but Martin stopped it after an hour and a half. 

It was 5:09 pm. 

"I'd love to chat with you some more, but I have another appointment with Emma at 5:30. We were going to cook together and then have dinner together too."  
"Already? Oh,... it's already a little after 6pm in Malta," Simon said. "Well then,... it was great to see you and hear this lovely news. She's really adorable and I'm very happy for you - I've said that a hundred times, but it's just great to know you're in such good hands and to see you so happy and lovestruck. Enjoy the evening, albeit in an extraordinary way - just a few more days and then you can really enjoy your time together again," he smiled.  
"I'm glad you called," Martin smiled. "And thank you Simon! We'll definitely have a nice evening. You enjoy the rest of the first Advent in Venice and have fun shooting with the rest of the gang."

They smiled at each other.  
They waved. 

Simon sent an obligatory air kiss, grinning seductively.  
Martin obligingly held his middle finger up to the camera, grinning cheekily. 

In London, Simon's face disappeared.  
In Venice, Martin's face disappeared. 

Two black screens.  
Two grinning and good-humoured men.


	32. The Magic Of Touching And Tasting

_**\- Saturday, December/05 - 2020, Malta, Luqa, Malta International Airport -** _

Impatiently, Martin looked out of the small window, gazing at the Malta Airport - a small building that was getting closer as the plane moved steadily and slowly. 

He had just landed in Malta for the first time and the country greeted him with fabulous weather that he could only see but not yet feel.  
He had taken off from London in rain and thick fog, but over the Alps he had already been able to enjoy the blue sky and with it the Alps itself.  
The sun was shining in the cloudless sky.

According to Emma, December was mainly known for being very rainy, but apparently Malta had changed its mind this year. 

Martin sat impatiently in his seat as the plane stopped in the middle of the airfield - apparently they would take a bus to the small airport building. 

Martin was still looking out of the window, adjusting the mask on his nose.  
Thank God no new travel ban had gotten in their way.  
He was looking forward to Emma, could hardly wait to see her - Skype was not the same after all.  
He just wanted to take her in his arms and hold her for the next two weeks.  
Thank God another ban hadn't gotten in their way.  
Martin ran his fingers through his hair, adjusted his black mask again. 

It was not the best time to travel, but when had it been this year?  
He had had to be tested for entry the day before yesterday, so he knew that everyone on board like him had tested negative; he had played by the rules so far, limited his contacts with friends and family to the bare minimum, and had not been out and about in London unnecessarily - apart from a few short walks and some grocery shopping every now and then.  
It was still not easy for him to limit his life that much, but he was not alone with this feeling and not the only one who would rather live his life like he did before.  
He would have loved to go out more often, to see his family more often, to spend his free time differently, to just work normally, but that was not possible or advisable at the moment, so he didn’t do it, as hard as it was.

Malta had been relatively spared in all that time, even if the second wave had hit Malta a little harder - but Malta was far less populated than London; just under 500,000 inhabitants, hardly any tourists in December.  
On top of that, he could enjoy lovelier weather here in Malta.  
And above all, he could enjoy time with his new girlfriend Emma. 

Emma had stolen his heart in no time - and his sister had absolutely hit the bull's eye with her souvenir; Emma was enchanting and breathtaking, stunning and overwhelming, and actually exactly the woman he had always been looking for but never found.  
And his sister had been right about something else too - age was absolutely irrelevant.  
Emma had wrapped him around her little finger with the first smile - and mostly he completely forgot that she was 18 years younger, that she was even a few weeks 19 years younger. The age difference was very obvious on the outside, but he no longer recognised this age difference when he acted with her, when he spoke with her, when he experienced her.  
Either she seemed older or he felt younger - maybe it was both.

His heart did somersaults at the thought of her. 

He could hardly believe the extraordinary way he had fallen in love - it had happened in a very extraordinary way, but his love for her was deep and sincere, unconditional.  
The love for her almost overwhelmed him, because the love between them had grown and matured quickly despite the extraordinary circumstances - and above all had grown into something that he had only achieved with Amanda after many years of relationship, that he had not achieved with Jeanne in their two years together at all.  
There was a lot of unconditional trust and love that he had the feeling they had known each other for much longer and had been in a relationship for much longer.  
He felt so comfortable with her that despite the extraordinary circumstances and only one visit so far, he had giving his heart and soul to her - with trust and without a doubt.  
There were no doubts, there was simply the knowledge that he could trust her unconditionally, that she would never hurt him, that he was safe with her, that he could let himself go, that he could just be who he was - and he knew that it was often not easy with him; but even so it wasn’t always easy with him, Emma showed him quite clearly that she felt the same as he did, that she trusted him, loved him unconditionally, felt safe and comfortable with him.  
There had just been a magical spark between them – a huge magical spark.

He could still hardly believe that he had met Emma, that she had fallen in love with him, that they had actually managed to become a couple during this extraordinary year and with this extraordinary distance. 

He was on cloud nine. 

Martin stepped out of the airplane with the other passengers, walked down the stairs - he had a bag hanging over his shoulder, was still wearing long trousers, a T-shirt and a jumper, had even put on his jacket.  
But outside he did not feel the icy rainy wind of London, outside he did not feel the temperature he had still been exposed to in London.  
In Malta, the thermometer didn't just show 2 degrees, but 26 - which honestly felt like 30.  
Martin was not the only one on the bus with sweat on his forehead.

During the two-minute ride to the airport building and the perhaps barely five-minute walk from the entrance to the baggage carousel, he thought about using the toilet first, taking off his jacket and jumper, refreshing himself a bit.  
But as he strolled past the baggage carousel on his way to the toilet, he was amazed to see several suitcases already moving on the baggage carousel - and his suitcase was among them. 

He made a detour to the baggage carousel, re-shouldered the hand luggage bag, pulled the dark blue suitcase off the baggage carousel, glad that he would apparently be able to hug Emma much sooner than he had assumed.

He hurried to the toilets, went into a cubicle, first got rid of the mask, pushed it under his chin - taking a breath.  
He took off his jacket and jumper, stowed both in his suitcase - it felt much better, but actually still too warm.  
Thank God he had also packed summer clothes in the suitcase and in the bag. 

He spent several minutes in the toilet, stowed away the too-warm clothes, used the toilet, re-freshened himself.  
Several minutes he had to wait to enter the country - without this virus it wouldn’t have taken him this long.  
But right now he had to answer questions, giving his contact details, handing in the certificate of the negative test - just like any other inbound passenger on the Air Malta plane from London.

Now his heart was beating faster with every step.  
Every step made his heart race a little faster.  
Each additional step made his stomach tingle a little more.  
Every step made him feel more impatient.  
Now he had crossed the arrivals hall and was at the agreed meeting point outside the building.

Even with the mask on, he recognised without a doubt, the woman who had brought him to Malta for the first time in his life, for whom he would most certainly visit Malta many more times - and only too gladly.

Emma.

She was standing almost directly in front of him.

His steps led him to her.  
Her steps led her to him.

He looked at her, beaming, even if she could not see the beaming smile due to the mask.  
She came towards him, spreading her arms - hair falling on her shoulders, round sunglasses on her nose, white loosely blouse, hot pants navy blue and made of fabric.  
He opened his arms too, let go of the suitcase, dropped the bag from his shoulder, stopped in front of her - hair styled, no sunglasses on his nose yet, the t-shirt black, the long trousers beige.

Emma had rushed the last few steps to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his hips, cuddled and hugged him, snuggled up closer in his arms, showed him quite clearly how much she had missed him, how happy she was that he was now with her.  
She hugged him warmly and lovingly, cuddled him - showed him that he was very welcome and that she had not only missed him, but that she also loved him very much.  
Her heart raced faster and faster, the butterflies danced just as wildly.

"Martin." she breathed through the dark mask.

Martin had wrapped his arms around her, one hand on her lumbar spine, the other under her bottom - he held her tightly. He hadn’t expected such a greeting, he couldn't help but be immediately reminded of Hugh Grant's airport scene from 'Love Actually'.  
He had to grin, still holding her securely on his arms, snuggling into her cuddly embrace as he held her on his arms.  
He had not expected a greeting of this kind, had never been greeted like this before, either in privacy or in public.  
He had not expected such a stormy greeting, but even if it was new and a first time, he liked this greeting exceptionally well. 

"Emma." he purred from behind the mask.

Emma let her hands wander into his hair, snuggled against him once more, then lowered her legs again, stood back on the floor.  
She looked at him, brushed her hair behind her ear, looked uncertain for a moment, but when she saw Martin's joyful beams, she too was beaming again - apparently he had enjoyed the greeting.  
She put her hand on his back, let her hand rub his back - she took a step back, caressed his soft grey hair, gave him this very gentle and intimate gesture as a preliminary welcome kiss.  
It felt fantastic to feel him again - not just to see him and hear him, but to feel him and smell him. 

"Let's go to the car really quickly, please; I want to get rid of this mask so I can kiss you," her voice beamed.  
"Off we go then – I really need your kiss." he winked charmingly. 

Emma glanced at him through her sunglasses, reached beside him, grabbed the handle of the trolley case.  
And Martin picked up the hand luggage bag from the ground.

Together they walked across the rather limited outdoor area of the small airport.  
They went to Emma's car, both with hurried steps.  
And not even five minutes later they were in the car. 

The masks disappeared from their faces - the beam in their faces was now quite visible. 

Martin bent towards her, raised his hand, caressed her cheek, caressed her shoulder-length light brown hair, some of which had a golden touch, behind her right ear again.  
His thumb lovingly caressed her cheek, gossamer caressing the fine and delicate lips - looking deep into her eyes, he could literally see her racing heart and tingling stomach in the brown sparkling eyes.

The kiss was overdue, the kiss was eagerly missed - but now Martin only had eyes for Emma; completely overwhelmed to see her, overwhelmed to feel and smell her, to be with her again, close and in person.  
A crazy feeling filled his body - there was pure joy, euphoria, energy and happy excitement, but at the same time he suddenly felt completely calm and balanced, quite comfortable and relaxed.

Emma returned his gaze - there was exuberance and deepest relaxation, and both rushed through her body.  
She raised her hand, gently running it through his soft grey hair.  
Goosebumps spread over her neck, arms and back as his thumb caressed her lips delicately.  
To feel his hand and thumb, to feel his hair between her fingers, to sense his perfume and his very own scent in her nose, was one of the most beautiful experiences of the year.

She could hardly wait for the kiss - and yet it was nice to have it waiting.  
She looked at him, overwhelmed and longing, could hardly believe what she saw in front of her eyes.  
There was no laptop and computer, there was no screen, no wobbly internet connection.  
She could touch him - she could touch him and actually feel his hair, his cheek, his neck, his shoulder, his ear, his hair; no cold screen.  
It was breathtaking.  
And she could see the exact same thought in Martin's eyes.

Martin leaned closer, caressing her lips again gauzy - he smiled as she shivered pleasantly.  
He leaned a little closer, barely sitting in his seat.  
He held her cheek, thumb resting on her lips, the other hand propped against the car dashboard.  
Gently the thumb gave way, made room for his lips.

No sooner did the thumb stop touching her lips, his lips settled on hers.

Again Emma shivered.  
Her heart stopped - not only because of the kiss, but mostly because of the nature of the kiss.  
The gesture and the initiation of the kiss were very seductive, intimate, delightful, romantic.  
Her hand gripped the grey hair.

A breathy kiss.  
A brief pause.  
A tender kiss.  
Again a short pause.  
An affectionate kiss that did not allow a pause for the time being.

Fireworks exploded not only in Martin's heart, but also in his stomach and in his head. 

He kissed Emma lovingly and longingly, savouring every single second, enjoying the taste of her lips, enjoying the feel of her lips.  
So soft and sweet, so delicate and familiar.  
Familiar even though they had exchanged comparatively few kisses since the beginning of their relationship.

Only slowly did the kiss end.  
Only slowly did Martin lean back a little.

"I've missed this for months," Martin murmured charmingly. "I've had to wait months for a reunion kiss many many times - but I've never longed for one of those kisses as much as I've longed for this kiss with you," he purred flirtatiously. 

Emma smiled, bent to his ear, kissed it tenderly.

"I've never had to wait months for a reunion kiss before - but I've never longed so much for the feel of a touch and the smell of a very specific person." she flirted with him. "You taste even better than you did in the summer," she murmured flirtatiously again.

Martin's eyes glowed at her enamoured, but the cheekiness sparkled naturally and authentically in his eyes too. 

"Maybe it's because I ate the Salted Caramel chocolate bar from Cadbury on the plane that I wanted to give you," Martin murmured charmingly and flirtatiously, cheeky and apologetic. 

Emma smirked against his ear, leaned back a little, then reunited their lips, stealing a firm kiss.

"You really do taste like Salted Caramel."

Gently, Martin bit her lower lip, kissed her lips very tenderly afterwards.  
"Hmm... " he murmured. "Actually, it was for you because you like it very much and you said they don't sell that one here -... well... the flight was three and a half hours and my head was screaming 'eat the chocolate' after an hour," he murmured flirtatiously and apologetically, feeling Emma smirk against his lips even as he spoke. "I ignored the voice - I very bravely ignored it for a whole eight minutes. And then suddenly it was gone – all of it," he murmured. "I promise I'll send you a parcel with lots and lots of bars when I get back to London."  
A kiss he breathed on Emma's lips.

Emma's authentic laugh sounded through the car for a moment, but then became a very gentle smile again.  
She put her hand to his cheek, ran her other hand through his hair, gazed lovingly at him.

"You know, I love Salted Caramel chocolate very much, I love the taste of salty caramel, but there is something that tastes even better," she smiled. "It's not bad that you ate the chocolate, and I'm very proud that you bravely ignored the voice in our head for such a long time,... ", she smirked briefly. "... but you don't have to send me a package with chocolate," she breathed softly. "I can enjoy something much better than Salted Caramel for a fortnight," she flirted with him.

Martin looked at her expectantly, even though he knew what she was referring too - it was making his stomach tingle.

"What tastes better than Salted Caramel?" he asked innocently.

Emma smiled and played with Martin's hair - she was aware that Martin knew exactly what it was that tasted better than Salted Caramel.

"You." she breathed flirtatiously, nonetheless. "Much more delicious than eating a bar of Salted Caramel chocolate is feeling you, smelling you, tasting you - seeing you, hearing you. Really and genuinely, without a screen and thousands of miles between us."

The blue in Martin's eyes sparkled lovestruck.  
He brushed his thumb across her lips again.  
The blue in Martin's eyes shone dreamily.  
He nuzzled his cheek against hers, nosing her scent deep into his nose.

"You're right." he sighed in her ear in a nasal and warm voice, shortly after perceiving a sighing 'Martin' in her fine and melodious voice - triggered by his nearness, by his presence, by his flirting and caressing.


	33. Longing For Closeness

_**\- Saturday, December/05 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Q1 Apartments, Emma's Penthouse -** _

Twenty-four minutes had passed on the car journey to Emma's penthouse.  
Twenty-four minutes they had spent almost entirely in silence.

The silence had not been unpleasant.  
Although Emma would have liked to chat with Martin, he had been completely enthralled by all the new impressions - he had spent the whole drive looking out of the window, enjoying the sun, the Mediterranean and British architecture, the country he had never been to before.  
Emma had kept quiet, had let Martin enjoy, had not wanted to ruin Martin's curiosity with many words.

The car journey from the airport in Luqa to Emma's penthouse in Sliema had taken twenty-four minutes.  
But it was only after thirty minutes that Emma unlocked the door to her big yet cosy penthouse.

It was Martin who entered first, because Emma had given him the right of way - and directly he found himself not only in a hallway decorated for Christmas, but also in a penthouse that was very familiar to him. He had often accompanied Emma virtually on a little tour through the penthouse - and this gave him the impression that he wasn’t here for the first time.  
The Christmas decorations already fondled him in the hallway, but he knew that the rest of the penthouse was festively decorated as well - on the first Advent, Emma had virtually shown him the decorated penthouse, because he had also virtually shown her around his festively decorated house.  
The love for Christmas was not the only thing they shared in common.  
Martin could not determine where the feeling came from, but he immediately felt at home - at home and incredibly comfortable. 

In fact, not only the hallway was decorated - the huge living and kitchen area was also festively decorated; decorations, a Christmas tree, lights.  
But it wasn't just the huge living and kitchen area that was decorated, there was also a richly decorated Christmas tree on the balcony that stretched around three sides of the penthouse. 

The big penthouse exuded Emma's personality, her love for art and antiques but also for modernity, books and music.  
The big penthouse exuded cosiness and serenity, but also passion and energy - it exuded nostalgia.

You could already feel it in the hallway.

Martin had slipped off his shoes, now followed Emma into the living and kitchen area, for Emma had offered him a glass of water - and he could desperately need it. 

Martin leaned against the kitchen island, waiting for the water - he really needed to change in a moment; another T-shirt and especially a pair of shorts.  
His gaze rested on Emma, who handed him the filled glass with a gentle smile.  
Martin licked his lips, eyed Emma, accepted the glass - actually there was another urgent wish.

He put the glass to his lips, still looked at Emma, already almost undressing her with his gaze - the other urgent wish would make him feel even hotter, but also give him a particularly awesome feeling.  
And Emma's lascivious look, her lip licking and her musing, told him quite clearly that she had the same urgent desire - she seemed to be waiting almost impatiently for him to finally put the glass down again. 

His impression had not deceived him.  
No sooner had the glass stopped touching his lips than it was surely taken from his hand and set down on the kitchen counter.  
As soon as the glass was on the kitchen island, her hands were on his cheeks and her lips on his.  
His impression had not deceived him - she definitely had the same desire.

Emma captured Martin's lips, kissing him passionately and demanding.  
All the tenderness that had defined their kiss at the airport had been replaced - replaced by passion and longing, lust and impatience.  
Martin returned her kiss immediately, deepened the kiss with her immediately, and grabbed her butt with both hands. 

They kissed each other demandingly, showing the other very clearly that they could hardly wait any longer.

Martin pushed Emma forward, pushed her against the table, still returning her greedy and passionate kiss, but leading it more and more.  
His hands moved from her bum to her hips - his hands stroked to the waistband of her trousers, to the trouser button, unbuttoned it.  
The hot pants slid down her slim and tanned legs.  
She shivered.  
Emma no longer led the kiss, letting herself be led, letting him act and dominate - and it felt fantastic.  
His lips kissed her longingly and greedily, his tongue dancing with hers all wild and passionate.  
She was no longer the only one purring and moaning into the kiss. 

Martin's right hand slipped unabashedly into Emma's panties.  
Her moans sounded stifled by the kiss.  
Martin's fingers played nimbly and talented, as if they knew exactly what kind of play he could use to turn her on and seduce her extremely and very quickly.  
Again, her moans sounded suppressed in the greedy kiss.  
Meanwhile, Martin's left hand brushed the panties off her hips - they too slid down her slender and naked legs.  
She purred and circled her hips slightly.  
Martin's fingers finished their play, his hands gripping her hips; he sat her down on the long wooden table.

Emma moaned and sighed in disappointment - she could no longer feel his lips, no longer feel his hands.  
"Please don't stop kissing and touching me," she begged.  
Martin put his lips on her ear for a few seconds, whispered a few words in a charming and flirtatious murmuring voice. 

"Don't worry, I won't stop kissing and touching you."

Emma shivered, glanced at Martin, gazed after him - tracking him with her eyes, swallowing hard as she understood.  
Her hands reached into Martin's grey hair, already seeking support.  
She was still watching him, her mouth slightly open, her body tingling.  
Emma's heart was beating faster and faster.

Teasingly, Martin kissed her thigh - he wanted to tease her and very briefly make her squirm a little.  
Her thighs trembled.  
She swallowed excitedly.  
Teasingly, Martin kissed along her thigh, coming closer and closer to her vagina. 

Moans sounded loudly from her throat as she felt his kissing lips between her legs.  
The tickling beard just did the rest.  
She put her head back, arched her back, grabbed his hair, moaning loudly again. 

His lips kissed her, the beard teased her, the tongue caressed her delightfully and excitingly.  
His lips sucked, the tongue played - lips and tongue enjoyed feeling and tasting her.

Her moans were music to his ears. 

Emma gasped - her body tingling strongly, Martin's talented teeth, lips and tongue creating more and more lust and arousal.  
In no time at all she was at the edge of a massive orgasm thanks to his talented caresses.  
She was ready to let go.  
Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage, her hands gripped the grey hairs harder again, pulling at them, playing with them; her stomach tingled strongly, as did her entire body, while her thighs trembled a lot.  
No man had ever made her feel this good and sparkly during sex.  
Emma had closed her eyes, still feeling the intensely playing tongue and teasingly kissing lips, as well as the delightfully tickling beard and softly nibbling teeth.

She wanted to enjoy this sensation much longer, but Martin's intense play, which he paused for not even a tenth of a second, sent the orgasm inexorably through her body.  
Moaning, she experienced a very intense orgasm, tousling his grey hair as she moaned and sighed, gasping his name with pleasure.  
She was allowed to enjoy the sensation a little longer, because Martin still did not pause the delightful and seductive play - he seduced her vagina, lips and clit intensely while she enjoyed the climax. 

Martin distributed the last kiss only when he could no longer feel her body trembling from the orgasm, when her frantic breathing regulated somewhat - he had very much enjoyed playing with her, making her orgasm, feeling and tasting her.

He straightened up again - hair mussed, lips wet, eyes lustfully fixed on Emma.  
His licked his lips, tasted her.  
His fingers frantically undid the button of his jeans, his hands frantically and impatiently pushed the jeans and shorts off his hips.  
He put his left hand on the back of her neck and his right hand on her hip, pulling her closer, penetrating her unabashedly as he pressed her closer by the neck, capturing her lips too. 

Emma wrapped her legs around his hips, wrapped her arms around his neck, could only hold back a moan because Martin's lips were claiming hers very much - but as Martin’s lips no longer touched hers to moan delightfully, Emma also took the chance to make him hear the pleasure she was feeling. 

Their lips met again in a kiss - they gasped against each other's lips, then entwined their lips, kissing passionately and intensely, equally passionate and intense was the rhythm with which Martin quickly brought her and himself towards climax.

Actually, he had missed so much more than just sex with Emma, but this kind of physical closeness had also been sorely lacking and he had not wanted to wait any longer for it - and he was clearly not the only one.  
There was so much more to enjoy, but at the moment they were in a passionate sexual ecstasy. 

Excited, Martin bit into Emma's tender lower lip, ending the kiss - but the lips made their way.  
The lips kissed the corner of her mouth, kissed her cheek, kissed her jaw and neck, sucked on them, nibbled gently.  
A smile played around his lips as he heard her purr and sigh.  
A sigh sounded from his throat as he felt her lips against his neck.  
There were her lips, kissing and sucking; there were her teeth nibbling and biting - so seductive and loving.  
There was her tongue licking a wet trail to his ear; there were her teeth nibbling at his earlobe; there were her lips kissing his ear.  
And then there was her voice.

"Martin... ", she purred excitedly and lustfully into his ear; the voice lascivious and clearly expressing that she was extremely enjoying the passionate quickie and his intense closeness. 

"Fuck.", Martin moaned - and Emma wrapped her legs around his hips a little more. "Emma... baby... ", he murmured excitedly and in ecstasy.

Emma pressed herself against him, caressed his ear, caressed his neck, nibbled his skin again and again as if she wanted to eat him. 

The solid wooden table crunched again and again under their passionate quickie. 

Their lips didn't manage to find each other again, they were too busy with other parts of their bodies, were actually only busy making lustful noises.

The lust for each other was too big, the longing for sexual closeness just as huge - it was a textbook example for a quickie.  
Pouncing on the other - passionate, fast and intense, wild and seductive. 

The orgasm was reached very quickly and simultaneously. 

Kissing and snogging, they found themselves still in the same position after reaching the orgasm several minutes ago.  
The kisses were still passionate but also tender and slow - they could hardly let go of each other.  
Reluctantly, they ended the kiss, gasping and breathing in very deeply. 

They rested their foreheads against each other - lips red and swollen, bodies still tingling with longing and arousal. 

Emma grabbed the hem of Martin's T-shirt - with a deft movement and Martin's help, the T-shirt sailed to the floor a short time later.  
Her fingers caressed Martin's warm chest, caressed his stomach.  
Her fingers wandered to her blouse, wandered to the buttons, began to button it.  
Emma's eyes studied Martin, looked him in the eyes - but Martin only had eyes for her fingers while licking his lips, clearly showing that he was still extremely aroused.

Martin licked his lips, swallowed, watched Emma unbutton the loose blouse.  
He licked his lips again as the white bra and tanned torso were revealed.  
The eyes still glowed with lust, still glowed with longing and arousal for intense closeness.  
And again he licked his lips and swallowed as she brushed the blouse off her shoulders.  
His belly tingled excitedly, his eyes still glowing and sparkling, watching very closely every single movement of her delicate fingers.  
Another swallow and lick of the lips as she not only undid the bra but also took it off, revealing her small but very beautiful breasts.  
Martin could hardly take his eyes off her.

Emma smiled and put her index finger under his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes.  
The other hand pushed him a little away, smiling.  
She slid off the table, took his hand in hers - waited wordlessly.  
She didn't have to ask Martin twice to come with her.  
The man who had taken her heart by storm slipped out of his socks, shorts and jeans in no time at all.  
She led him into the bedroom, feeling his eyes watching languishingly her bum.

With his heart beating excitedly, Martin followed her.  
On bare feet he followed his naked young girlfriend.  
His eyes could hardly believe how breathtakingly beautiful she was.  
The desire for more sex with her was huge and yet he felt not only the extreme desire for much more sex with her, but also the deep and sincere love towards her and the very strong desire to just cuddle and snuggle with her.  
A little more than 18 years younger than him - but he would have fallen in love with this breathtaking woman too if she were only 18 days younger than him, or if she were even older than him.  
His heart was beating wildly lovestruck in his chest.

He blinked in irritation as he suddenly felt a soft mattress and bedding against the back of his knees.

"Well, where have you been you insanely beautiful man?" asked Emma with a smile.  
"Caught in a very amorous reverie," he had to smile as well. "You were playing the lead role you outrageously beautiful woman."  
"In my amorous reverie, it's you who's playing the lead role, charming English man," she murmured softly against his cheek, kissing it afterwards. 

Martin smiled, enjoying the kiss, enjoying the kisses she gave him, enjoying her pet names and compliments.  
The kisses reached his mouth, her hand caressed his back, caressed his bottom, caressed his hip, suddenly was wrapped around his erection.  
Martin moaned.

He felt the caressing hand, swallowed, then felt her kissing lips again, stifling his moan.  
Her hand caressed his erection delightfully, her lips kissed him delightfully, the other hand pushed him down onto the mattress.  
He no longer felt a kiss, no longer felt the caressing hand.

"I am far from done with you... ", she murmured in a flirtatious, seductive and erotic voice against his lips. “I am afraid you won’t see much more than my penthouse today... ”

And then she kissed him gossamer softly, letting her lips wander deeper and deeper.  
Gossamer kisses for his chin, for his larynx, for his sternum, for his belly - suddenly she was kneeling in front of him.  
Gossamer kisses, again for his belly.  
And then her lips were kissing wrapped around his erection.

Her erotic blowjob immediately sent a strong tingling sparkle through his body.  
Her erotic play was immediately very intense.

He swallowed, licked his lips, moaned and gasped, sighed and purred.  
He sank backwards onto the mattress, supported himself briefly with his hands at first, quite quickly with his elbows, but he lay down on his back after a few seconds.  
He swallowed, put his head back, put a hand in her hair, arched his back as he enjoyed her blowjob – her tongue, her teeth, her lips; licking, nibbling, sucking.

She was far from done with him - and he was definitely far from done with her.

As beautiful as Malta was, it would be even more beautiful to spend the rest of the day in her penthouse, making up for all the sex they had to do without for the last few months.


	34. How To Sweeten A Day

_**\- Sunday, December/06 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Q1 Apartments, Emma's penthouse -** _

Sighing and purring, Martin closed his eyes, immediately nuzzling his cheek against Emma's.  
The December sun was shining in his face, warming him at 22 degrees - another exceptionally beautiful and warm December day.

He stood on the balcony, having meant to bring in the last of the leftovers from breakfast, but the breathtaking view had distracted him.  
He stood at the glass railing, leaning with his forearms on the handrail, gazing out at the vast sea – now with closed eyes. 

Emma had crept up behind him, letting her hands wander beneath the black polo shirt - her delicate fingers caressing his flat stomach.  
She had nestled her cheek against his.  
She turned her head, gently biting his lightly bearded cheek, kissing it softly after her tender bite, enjoying the light scratching of his beard. 

"I’m sorry, Em - I was actually going to help you with the rest, too," he murmured. "I got distracted by the view."  
"That's okay. It wasn't much left," she murmured against his cheek, kissing it again, letting her fingertips wander across his tummy.  
Martin straightened, feeling the delicate fingers slip out from underneath the polo shirt, gently caressing it, caressing his chest; she wrapped her arms around him at chest level. He put a hand on her arm, his thumb stroked back and forth.  
"I can't wait to get to know Malta with you," he smiled. "I got to know your stunning penthouse very intensively yesterday," he murmured, flirtatiously alluding to the erotic and romantic hours they had enjoyed in the penthouse.  
"I'm also very much looking forward to showing you my country," she murmured against his cheek, kissing it again. "When we get back, you can get to know the penthouse a little more intensively - we didn't have enough time for every little spot," she murmured. 

Martin smiled, turned his head, stole a kiss – he was still getting to know her sexually too, and yet he could tell he loved having sex with her; he loved the romance between them, the romantic crackle, the intense exchange of love, the passion, the longing and hunger, the exploration, the harmony between them, the sharing of their preferences and the intense foreplay with the intense cuddling and snuggling after sex, whether it was sweetly romantic, intensely passionate, or hungrily wild and rough.  
They were still exploring each other, but gosh, sex with her was truly an absolute awesome experience – he loved to have sex with her, he had missed sex with her, and yesterday he had been able to enjoy lots of sex with Emma.  
Before Emma, the last day full of sex must have been two decades ago – he smiled to himself, he wouldn’t complain about having lots of sex with Emma.  
He stole a second kiss, even sucked on her lower lip, stole a third kiss afterwards. 

"I'm ready to get to know your country." he smiled, biting her nose gently, then kissing it with a soft peck. "And as much as I'd like to take you to bed again, I'm ready to go," he said with childish impatience.  
"Then we'll postpone snogging, petting and making love until tonight - I don't want to keep you waiting any longer," she murmured in an amused voice. 

She lowered her arms, took a step back, entered the penthouse with him a few moments later - getting to know Malta could start.

As a first stop, Martin had wished for a little detour to the record store - a short tour to Valletta, admiring her store with his own eyes, meeting her brother, browsing through the records a little, enjoying a small snack and a tea. 

Emma had granted him the wish; also knew that not only Martin wanted to meet Matteo, but that Matteo was also on pins and needles.  
But Matteo wasn't the only one on pins and needles; the rest of the family, especially her parents and her grandma, were also on pins and needles, but they knew they would have to be patient for a few more days - on Emma's birthday they would meet him at last. 

Martin had decided to take the bus for today's trip to Valletta, wanting to enjoy the streets and alleys on the way, wanting to see as much of Malta as possible. 

They had taken the bus from Xerri stop directly to the Triton Fountain – it had taken them 15 minutes. 

Martin walked close beside Emma, letting his fingers brush over her hand as he strolled, marvelling at the fountain and absorbing the impressions - letting his fingers brush over her delicate skin, then slowly and tenderly entwining his finger with hers.  
He leaned over to her as they strolled through the winter sun, pulled down the mask that matched his clothes with his free hand - according to Emma, you had to wear a mask everywhere in Malta. He breathed a kiss on Emma's temple, then immediately pushed the mask back over his nose.  
Holding hands while walking in public was something he hadn't done for a long time, not for many years; even with Amanda he had done it only rarely, occasionally on the Red Carpet.  
The desire to walk hand in hand or arm in arm with Emma was big.  
He felt incredibly comfortable with her; it happened without much thinking, just naturally - it was what he wanted to do, so he did it.  
He just felt comfortable, safe and secure with Emma; he didn't want to hold back anything with her, just wanted to enjoy.  
There was the desire to hold hands with Emma because he loved her, because he wanted to exchange closeness with her, because it just felt good to touch her, and also because he had had to do without the feeling of her skin for such a long time.  
They were not in London, but even here it would certainly not remain completely undiscovered - but no matter what possible fans or the press in Malta would make of it, he did not care.  
With her he was able to enjoy, with her he was able to just be himself, with her he felt so comfortable that he just wanted to savour and live out the relationship with her like anyone else who was freshly in love.

Emma turned her head towards him, smiling behind the mask - you could see it very clearly in her eyes. She squeezed his hand, letting her thumb brush the back of it.  
It felt good to feel him so close again, to enjoy the relationship that had been working for four months despite the distance.  
It was wonderful to feel him now, to hold hands with him now, to enjoy touching him.  
It was wonderful that he was just enjoying it, that they were just enjoying being in love together.  
His hand felt beautiful around hers.  
She beamed at him, nudged him with her shoulder, leaned more towards him, pulled the mask down with her other hand, breathed a quick kiss on his ear as they walked towards the city gate of Valletta, pushed the mask over her nose again. 

They walked through the city gate of Valletta, were now in the midst of the yellow limestone buildings with the colourful balconies that exuded a lot of charm.  
Christmas decorations had not been spared; and even if the many lights were not shining at the moment, the figures radiated the Maltese love for Christmas.  
Decorated Christmas trees stood on every corner.  
Christmas music resounded through the wide alleyway, seeming to accompany them.

Martin's eyes gleamed as he strolled along side Emma; his eyes still absorbed every little detail. The head, the heart and the stomach stored all the wonderful impressions.  
He loved Christmas, and this was a paradise for him - Christmas spirit, architecture that exuded incredible charm, a city with little hustle and bustle; sun that warmed his skin.

"Where is the music coming from?" he asked, looking around as the music seemed to accompany them steadily.  
"Speakers." smiled Emma. "They're well hidden in the decoration - they're not all over the town, just here in this street; this is Republic Street, sort of the main street, and pedestrian only. It's not very busy today, but it can get very crowded."  
"It already looked amazing in Laura's pictures and via Skype, but it's actually even more beautiful in person," Martin's eyes gleamed enthusiastically. "It's not too far to the record store either. There's a big square and then we have to turn left into a little alley."  
"Exactly," Emma smiled. "It's nice that you get to experience the store with its charm, that a few days ago, we were allowed to reopen again for lingering and dwelling."  
"I really can't wait to step through the door. If I were 40 years younger, I'd be running now," the eyes were smirking childishly. 

Emma laughed, squeezed his hand, strolled with him along the straight pedestrian street, letting Martin enjoy the city. 

Ten minutes ago they had left the bus, now they were already at Republic Square - they turned left into a small alley, the red door could already be seen; and Martin's steps were now actually a little bigger and a little more hurried; he pulled slightly on Emma's hand as a result.

Emma smiled behind the mask; it was amusing but also stunningly cute to see him with such childlike anticipation and impatience. She squeezed his hand again, then let her hand slip out of his - she let him go first; the door was wide open. 

The nostalgic record store was not packed with people, because even if the restaurants, bars and cafés had been allowed to reopen; keep your distance was still in place.  
Even when sitting down. 

Outside of the store was a Christmas and architectural paradise, inside the store was the paradise that united Martin's love for music and nostalgia.

That the shop was a place to linger, Martin could feel it deep inside him with the first breath.  
His body tingled warmly - he would be able to linger here for a very long time.  
He didn't have to say anything to signal Emma that he had fallen head over heels in love with this shop, that he was more than excited.

Emma led Martin through the shop, taking him past the armchairs and sofas, the chairs and tables, the records and books - Christmas soul music was playing from a record player in the background, a guest had just laid it on.  
Emma led Martin to the counter where Matteo was standing.

Matteo beamed at Emma, standing behind the counter, standing behind the acrylic glass they had additionally installed on the counter as a protective measure.  
Matteo lowered the mask briefly under his chin so that Martin could see him completely for once to get to know him properly - dark brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, a very well-groomed beard adorning his cheeks; a slender yet trained man who was a few centimetres taller than Martin; his nose immaculate, as was the rest of his face; his skin tanned.  
Matteo beamed at Emma and Martin - you could tell he was Emma's brother, and more importantly, you could tell why he was a model.  
Matteo beamed warmly at his sister and her new partner, pushing the mask back over his nose - he was wearing a cream-coloured polo shirt and navy-blue trousers.

"Well, there you are!" he beamed; he came out from behind the counter, beamed at Martin and reached his arm out to him, making a fist.  
A fist bump between Matteo and Martin.  
Matteo was still beaming, his eyes clearly showing it.  
"You'll get the welcome hug on Emma's birthday," he said cheerfully. "Nice to meet you, Martin - and welcome to Malta."  
Martin wore his mask on his nose like everyone else in the shop, but his eyes also clearly showed joy and a big smile - he liked Matteo's warmth and welcoming.  
"It's nice to meet you too, Matteo," he said enthusiastically. "And the good genes don't seem to be rare in your family."

Matteo and Emma laughed.

"That comment just gives at least a million plus points - I like it when my sister gets charming compliments," he let his eyes smile warmly. "Emma said you love records, feel free to look around," he said, reaching out to him again, squeezing his shoulder amicably. "Emma and I will prepare the tea and snacks - before she shows you this beautiful island."

Martin smiled, feeling very welcome, feeling to be admitted into the family.  
He glanced at Matteo, then let his eyes wander to Emma, who was stroking his back, her eyes smiling.  
They leaned towards each other, smiling, pulling the masks off their noses and lips, giving each other a little kiss before the masks moved back over their noses. 

"I'm actually more talkative," Martin told Matteo. "But the records distract me too much," he admitted.  
"No problem at all.", Matteo's eyes smirked. "Enjoy it, we'll chat later and catch up on the rest on Emma's birthday."

While Martin went to the records with one last warm look at Emma and Matteo, Emma slipped behind the counter with Matteo.

Matteo followed Martin with his eyes, saw him browsing through the records, saw him standing near a 10-year-old boy who was also browsing through the records, who was a regular guest with his family, who was an avid record fan and who would probably have been better off born many decades ago. 

"You had already sent me a selfie of you two from London, but you look even cuter together in person," Matteo said. "This is really the first decent boyfriend, or rather the first decent man by your side. I haven't seen much of you as a couple yet, but I already have the feeling and impression that he treats you the way I imagine my little sister deserves to be treated."  
Emma looked to Martin as well, beaming at him - she knew the boy standing near him; the 10-year-old had already left a lot of pocket money, birthday money and Christmas money here.  
"He treats me just as you imagine and wish. He really fulfils my every wish and spoils me at every opportunity,... not exaggerated, but very natural and authentic. I feel very loved and understood, respected and equal to him; I feel very comfortable and secure with him; he really shows great interest, and he is a great listener. I should stop or I'll be raving about him for hours."  
"I told you he’s the first decent man at your side," Matteo said with a smile, and then he smirked. "As if you haven't done that already - as soon as I mention his name, you won't stop raving about him."  
"Be glad I can do that," Emma grinned.  
"I am, I am," Matteo nodded, turning his head to Emma. "I'm very happy for you and for you guys." The eyes sparkled. "Mum and Dad are thrilled to meet him. They called me this morning and begged me to allow them to come to the store too," the eyes grinned in amusement. "And Grandma's all excited, she called me this morning too – even before I opened the shop at six; Dad told her you were coming over today. She wanted me to pick her up," he grinned.  
Emma grinned.  
"That family is really pushy." she smirked, then tilted her head. "And I was briefly worried what they'd say about the age difference - Martin's only five years younger than Mum and Dad."  
"That you were seriously worried about that," Matteo's uncomprehending voice was heard. "You know our family is very open-minded, and above all, they just want to see us happy. If you're still worried, you can really stop doing that," he said, putting his arm around his sister. "You make a lovely couple and I'm super excited to meet him properly on your birthday - and until then, you two enjoy your time together."

Emma smiled up at her brother, who was two years older, rubbed his back briefly, then turned her head again - Martin had joined them. 

"I found something," he smiled. "With that record I can also give something for your lovely Giljan project." he said, pointing to the small note that had been attached to the cover and which read 'Giljan'.  
He placed the limited edition of a Beatles' record on the counter.

Emma looked down, tilted her head, looked at the record Martin had chosen - it was one of the last records Giljan had bought. A limited edition; a blue-golden record signed by Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr: The Beatles - Abbey Road 50th Anniversary.  
Emma raised her eyes, tilted her head again.

"You have that record, haven't you? You showed it to me, and we listened to it together. Paul gave it to you at that Abbey Road Anniversary party. You told me about it, you were all excited about it, because he gave it to you as a present, telling you that you’re not just a big fan of his but that he’s also a big fan of your work," Emma said, irritated. "There are still a lot of Giljan records out there, I'm sure you'll find one you don't already have."  
"I know." he smiled. "But it's not for me anyway.", he smiled in a warm voice and pulled his wallet out of his trouser pocket.

Emma smiled at him, following with her eyes the process of payment - the card was inserted into the reader, 98.50 euros were deducted from the card.  
She followed him with her eyes, saw him take the record; the wallet went back into his trouser pocket; he took the bag in his other hand, did not put the record in it.

"Hmmm... ", she whispered as Martin just gave them a smile with his eyes and then walked through the shop.

Emma and Matteo followed him, saw him stop at the 10-year-old boy who regularly bought records here, sitting rather sad on an armchair.  
Emma and Matteo watched Martin, who bent down a little to the 10-year-old boy, put the record with the bag on the coffee table and spoke to him.  
They both bowed their heads.  
Emma and Matteo stood behind the counter while the boy's eyes grew bigger and bigger as the boy called Luke suddenly stood up and hugged Martin at belly level.  
Emma and Matteo looked at the joyous embrace, glanced at Luke and Martin.

It took half an hour for Martin to return to the counter - Luke had thanked him over and over again and then engaged Martin in a conversation about the Beatles. 

"What's the story behind this lovely deed?" asked Matteo with a smile.  
Emma looked to Martin, eyes looking warmly at him, she too was already hanging on his every word - and although she didn't even know the story, she was already incredibly touched by the little gift exchange.  
"While browsing through the records, I overheard him talking to his mother. He had asked her if she could buy him the limited edition, but she realised that it would probably be a bit too expensive for a record that wasn't going to be his birthday present or Christmas present, but something for in between. He was quite sad and told her that he still had some pocket money. He asked her if she would add the rest to it, but she denied that too - she said it was too expensive, and that otherwise she would have gladly bought him the record," Martin told them with smiling eyes.  
Emma was touched, looked at him with warm and touched eyes; Matteo was also touched by this little story.  
"Luke is here very often - he always saves his money quite diligently. He and his family have been regulars for three years and we've already sold a few records to the little record lover."

Martin smiled across the counter, turned his head back to Luke again, had really enjoyed giving him the little gift - he had felt sorry for the boy, and Luke had reminded him of his own childhood; he too had spent a lot of time in record shops, saving pocket money, pressing his nose against the windows, and sometimes begging his mother or stepdad sweetly to buy him a record because his own pocket money wasn’t enough.

Luke waved at him, his mask tucked under his chin as he ate and drank tea and sandwiches with his mother - beaming all over his face, shouting through the shop and over the music.

"Thank you, Martin!" he called out the name Martin had introduced himself with. 

Martin waved at him too, gave him a smile with his eyes - the boy's gratitude, the big beam, the reminder of his own childhood sweetened his day a little more. 

Emma stood next to Martin, caressed his hair at his side, gently stroked his shoulder, thereby getting Martin's attention.  
Eyes looked up at him, touched.

"I'm having a fantastic day so far, but you've sweetened my day with that gesture," she breathed. "And I'm sure you've not only sweetened Luke's day , but his whole year. I don't think he'll ever forget this gift and gesture. I'm sure he'll remember this encounter and the grey-haired man with the blue eyes, named Martin, for the rest of his life."

Martin smiled, pulling the mask a little under his chin.  
He breathed a kiss on Emma's temple, pulled the mask back over his nose, put an arm around her, pressed her lovingly against his side - enjoying the closeness, enjoying feeling her, enjoying hugging her. 

"I'm having a fantastic day so far too, but this little gift-giving has sweetened my day too."


	35. Fish And Silence

_**\- Wednesday, December/09 - 2020, Malta, Marsaxlokk -** _

The gentle December wind caressed Martin's grey hair.  
He sat down next to Emma - sat down on a bench that was right in the picturesque harbour of Marsaxlokk, overlooking the turquoise sea and the colourful fishing boats.  
He was looking at a romantic postcard scene - he could not only see it up close, but also feel it.  
The wind gently swept through his hair, the sun gently warmed him, hovering over them with a few white clouds. 

The day before yesterday he had enjoyed a little sightseeing tour with Emma - mostly by foot. A great long walk with lots of little breaks; strolling to St. Julian, then to Portomaso Marina, then up to St George's Bay.  
It had been a lovely trip and walk, which he had enjoyed not only culturally but also culinary until the early afternoon.  
By bus he had travelled with Emma to Gzira, a town right next to Sliema from where one could visit Manoel Island.  
He had ended the evening and the day in the record shop - all alone with Emma. 

Yesterday he had hardly come out of the penthouse, let alone out of bed.  
Emma had hardly let him get out of bed, had simply not been able to keep her hands off him; but he had not been able to let Emma get up either.  
They had made love - passionately and roughly, exploring, then again very tenderly and innocently.  
They had not gotten enough of each other, had seduced each other again and again, enjoyed each other's physical closeness - and one orgasm after the other.  
Another day in Malta that he had enjoyed very much. 

Now the wind of the sea gently brushed through his grey hair.  
With one hand he adjusted his frame glasses, then rubbed his bearded cheek.  
This morning they had again hardly gotten enough of each other, but shortly before noon they had managed to leave the penthouse and Sliema.  
They had driven to Marsaxlokk by car - the postcard that Emma had painted for him of Marsaxlokk herself and sent in her package was still hanging on his fridge.  
Today he was up close.  
He gazed at the turquoise sea in front of him, sucked in the fresh air, let his eyes roam over the colourful fishing boats, let his eyes enjoy the romantic view. 

An oblong bowl stood on his lap with several tacos in it - filled with various freshly caught fish, scampi and delicious fresh vegetables.  
It smelled awfully good.  
His mouth watered just by looking at the selection.

He felt a tender kiss on his right cheek. 

He closed his eyes, felt a second kiss on his cheek, felt a kiss on his ear, felt Emma's lips on his temple, felt her lips on his ear, and again on his cheek.  
He smiled blissfully with his eyes closed.  
Leaning back, he put an arm around Emma, pressed her against him, claimed another kiss. 

Sighing, he turned his head to Emma, who also had an oblong bowl on her lap, also containing variously filled tacos.  
He nuzzled his forehead against hers, kissed her nose, then kissed the tender and delicate lips. 

"Thank you for that lovely lunch date. And I'm really looking forward to Mdina too." he breathed against her lips - really enjoying getting to know her country and home.  
Emma breathed a kiss on his lips, then leaned her head back a little, winking.  
"Well, I have to offer you something again today after I didn't let you get out of bed yesterday."  
Martin smirked.  
"You did let me out of bed - you only seduced me again in the shower, while I was getting dressed, in the kitchen and on the sofa. But then, I wasn't entirely innocent of the fact that we only left your home sweet home for a long evening stroll," he winked. "Besides, I wouldn't even dream of complaining that all we did yesterday was having sex."  
Emma grinned, exchanging another kiss with him.  
"Oh yes, the long evening walk," she said ironically. "Fifteen minutes – that was such a long evening stroll. But I won’t complain about yesterday too, or about you seducing and fucking me right in the hallway as soon as we were back," she winked. "After all, we made it both out of bed and out of the shower today."  
Martin smirked, kissing Emma's lips, nibbling gently on her lower lip - his voice murmuring words against her lips.  
"If you don't stop talking about the two of us having sex at every opportunity at the moment, then I hope you know a hotel or guest house nearby."

Emma laughed heartily, pressed a firm kiss to his lips, snuggled into his little embrace. 

"There are four guest houses within a two-minute walk. Don't give me any ideas." she smirked, letting her hand play gently in his hair. "Let's enjoy lunch before it gets cold," she smiled now. 

The naughty and silly twinkle in Martin's blue eyes disappeared - the twinkle seemed soft and warm again, sweet and tender.  
He stole another kiss of her lips, really couldn't get enough of her closeness, and he didn't feel that it was because of the many weeks of abstinence, but because of Emma herself; he had the feeling that even if Emma had been with him every day for the last weeks and months, that even then he would hardly get enough of her closeness and her touches. 

"Enjoy it.", Emma smiled against his lips before leaning back.  
"You too - and thank you for inviting me," he breathed in a nasal voice. 

Martin turned his head back to the sea, he too took the first taco from the bowl.  
He bit into it with gleeful anticipation, sighing as the freshly caught fish melted on his tongue.  
The fish tasted heavenly, even better than he had imagined, even better than the handsome street food smelled.  
He let the fish, the sauce and the vegetables melt on his tongue, looked with pleasure at the taco in his hands, licked his lips with relish after swallowing it.

"I feel like you're cheating on me with a taco right now," Emma smirked, nudging him with her shoulder.  
Martin turned his head around.  
"I rather got carried away with a threesome again." he winked cheekily and stole an amorous and intimate kiss.  
He leaned back, heard her laugh, wiggled his eyebrows, bit into the taco again.  
Gently she slapped his thigh, smirking now.  
"You can't stop talking about sex yourself! And that information about your night with two French women still turns me on."  
Martin swallowed a second bite, smirking - there was a cheeky yet amorous sparkle in his eyes again.  
"Who is sitting here on the bench so impudently and forbiddingly attractive?" he asked.

They both answered at the same time.

"You!" said Emma in an amorous voice.  
"You!" said Martin also in an amorous voice. 

They looked at each other flattered, smiled, leaned towards each other, breathed a kiss on their lips. 

"What are you doing to me, Em?" murmured Martin against her lips.  
"I could ask you the same thing," Emma murmured in a warm voice. 

Again they exchanged a kiss, savouring it, deepening it lovingly and warmly.  
With a taco in each hand, Emma and Martin enjoyed an intimate kiss on one of the benches in the picturesque fishing harbour of Marsaxlokk.  
In front of them the turquoise sea and the colourful fishing boats.  
Behind them, the picturesque romantic fisher village.  
In their hair the mild December wind.  
On their faces the mild December sun.  
In their noses the smell of sea and sun, of delicious fish, and the very own smell of their partner.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_**\- 3.20 pm, Malta, Mdina -**_

No longer did the romantic picturesque harbour of Marsaxlokk lie in front of them - now it were the sun-drenched narrow streets of Mdina, flanked by high golden walls. 

They were in the city that was also called the Silent City.  
Hand in hand, they had just passed Mdina Gate.

Martin let go of her hand, put his arm around her shoulder - he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, it was or seemed a little warmer here than by the sea.  
He turned his head to Emma, pulled the mask from his nose and mouth, breathed a kiss into her hair.  
Emma put her arm around his back; like Martin, she wore a mask - the small picturesque town was almost empty, but in the narrow streets they would not be able to keep the distance to other people, and on top of that, masks were absolutely compulsory in public in Malta too. 

Their feet carried them along the cobbled paths through narrow alleys, past the baroque and medieval architecture, along the impressively ornate and still well-preserved churches - so far they had actually not met anyone on their way through the winding picturesque alleys that sent them on a journey through time.

"Why is it also called the Silent City?"  
"Actually, Mdina means 'the walled city'," Emma said. "But as you may hear, you hear very little," she smiled. "The number of cars allowed is limited, there is only one hotel here and very few restaurants; there are also barely 240 people living in Mdina. In the evening, it's even more deserted than it is now," she smiled. "And that's why it's very quiet and still. Even the high walls of the buildings hardly let through any sounds from the other alleys."  
"Silence really is a beautiful thing - not always, but sometimes it's worth a mint," Martin said.

He strolled through the alleys with Emma, marvelling at the sand-coloured buildings that almost shimmered golden in the sun.  
To the right and left the picturesque alleys lined their path, high above them they came to an end, revealing the blue sky. 

"You're right about that." she smiled, snuggling tighter into the gentle embrace he gave her as they walked. 

Together they strolled through the narrow streets.  
Emma gave him time to enjoy the impressions, answered his questions, let him take his photos at his leisure - she didn't want to rush him, wanted to let him enjoy, and they weren't in a hurry at all.  
Together they explored the small historic town, looked at the small chapels and churches, also enjoyed some time in the cathedral of Mdina. 

High golden walls lined their way, here and there they reached a small square guarded only by a fountain, now and then by a single olive or orange tree.  
Colourful doors in some alleys.

Together they had reached a hill, the end of the town - surrounded by a thick sand-coloured wall.  
A view over Malta.

Emma stroked Martin's back, hopped lightly onto the wide wall, beaming, sitting on it.  
Not a soul for miles - she pulled her mask under her chin, beamed.

"What have you liked best so far, gorgeous man from England?" she asked, eyes shining - she opened her arms.  
Martin stepped closer, pulled the mask under his chin, stood in front of her, put his arms around her back while she put her arms around his neck - they could look each other straight in the eyes.  
"The breathtaking woman sitting in front of me right now." he breathed sincerely - and he made clear he wasn't flirting, just speaking the truth. "And in second place is all the rest I've seen so far." he smiled honestly, enthusiasm in his voice, you could hear that he was excited about the island.  
"Do you like the woman sitting in front of you right now so much that she's the best thing on the whole island?"

Martin leaned forward a little, breathed a gentle kiss on her cheek, then whispered in her ear.  
"I met this woman under very unusual and extraordinary circumstances, and even though we've only been together a few months and have seen very little of each other in that time, I can say that I love this stunning woman very much, and that she's the best thing on the whole island for me."  
Gently, he breathed a kiss on her ear - holding her in his embrace, cuddling and nuzzling her. 

Emma snuggled into the protective and possessive embrace, nuzzling her cheek against his.  
"I love you, handsome man from the other island." she smiled in a warm voice. "Very much indeed." she added, purring.  
She let her hands run over his back, rubbing tenderly.

They turned their heads to each other, joined their lips in a kiss.  
Tenderly they kissed, enjoying the dance of their lips. 

Emma deepened the kiss, sucked gently on Martin's lower lip, nibbled on it, played with it, heard him purr softly. She tasted his lower lip with her tongue, let their tongues dance delicately - her heart was beating in love and bliss.  
Martin returned her kiss, was only too happy to let her seduce him into a loving and tender French kiss. His stomach tingled - he loved to feel and taste her lips, to let their tongues dance. 

Together they forgot the world around them, blissfully enjoying their tender French kiss, their tender caress. 

Their lips were moist when the kiss ended, but there was also a happy and amorous smile on their lips.

Martin kissed her cheek, breathed a kiss on the tip of her nose, let his nose circle briefly over it; he kissed her forehead, kissed her temple - the paparazzi in London would have been delighted with moments like this and would certainly have been photographing their fingers to the bone by now.

"Let's take a selfie," Emma suggested after enjoying his kisses.

Martin nodded, turned around in the embrace, took a small step to the side, felt one arm wrap around his chest, felt the other arm wrap around his stomach, felt her cheek against his. 

"You take the picture, please. You can reach your phone easier." she smiled sitting on the wall, still nuzzling her cheek against his - enjoying the beard and his soft warm skin. 

Martin pulled his mobile out of his pocket, opened the camera app. He stretched out his arm, looked at what he saw in the display - Emma looked simply stunning, that flawless beautiful face, plus the warm joyful and honest smile that even showed her white teeth.  
The heart was beating faster.  
He looked at Emma in the display - how she was hugging him possessively and euphorically, totally in love (why had he worried even for a second that he might be too old for her), totally excited and seeking closeness; how she was nestling her cheek against him as if she wanted to crawl into him.  
He could perceive the age difference - but the obvious recognition, didn't leave him bitter, quite the opposite, his eyes began to shine and glow, began to sparkle in love and infatuation; he had to say, they really were a great and pretty, harmonious and cute looking couple.

"Martin darling." breathed Emma, glancing at him over the display too. "We're up close, you don't have to adore me over a display - take the photo, turn around again, and then kiss me please." she breathed charmingly, a little cheekily, but mostly flirtatiously. 

Martin's cheeks blushed for a moment, but then he too looked at the camera, beaming sincerely and naturally - he didn't have to strain at all to do so; with Emma, he couldn't get the smile off his face.

A photo was taken showing Martin and Emma cuddling - very close to each other, their eyes shining lovestruck, their lips too; they looked happy and comfortable; you could see that they were freshly in love, that they felt very connected to each other and above all very comfortable with each other.  
A photo was taken, showing the breathtaking view over Malta in the background. 

Martin put the phone back into his pocket, turned to Emma again, took her face in both hands.  
He looked at her, glanced at her lips, nudged the tip of her nose with his nose - and only then e kissed Emma with devotion and affection.  
He immediately felt Emma's hand in his hair, felt the other hand on his back, how it slipped under the shirt and stayed there on the bare skin quite innocently - only the fingers tickled the warm skin.  
Martin involved her in a French kiss without further ado, letting his hands wander from her cheeks into her hair. 

Silence surrounded them - peaceful and secure silence.


	36. The Family

_**\- Saturday, December/12 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Q1 Apartments, Emma's penthouse -** _

Yawning, Martin washed his hands in the bathroom, looking in the mirror.  
His grey hair was partly sticking out in all directions, a three-day beard adorned his cheeks, his blue eyes looked tired, his upper body was naked, the hem of his black shorts reflected in the large bathroom mirror.

It was just shortly after 7 o'clock in the morning.

He had woken up because he had urgently needed to go to the toilet, and only because of this urgent need had he slipped out of Emma's very loving embrace with a heavy heart.  
He had lain in Emma's arms - his head had rested on her chest, his arm on her stomach, his leg on hers; her arms had hugged him very lovingly, had held him close.  
Goosebumps spread over his body, a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.  
He liked not only protecting her in his arms but also being protected in her arms.

He still felt the sensation of being freshly in love, enjoying that warm and tingling feeling inside him that made him feel comfort and security, love and affection, connection and well-being.  
His stomach tingled, his heart was beating fast in his chest. 

Quickly, he grabbed the small towel, dried his hands - it was time to lie back in bed with Emma, to cuddle up to her, to feel her skin against his.  
He had to savour and enjoy every second with her, because the breathtaking visit would come to an end in just a week.

He walked to the door, opened it, stepped into the hallway.  
At the same time, Emma stepped out of the room opposite the bathroom.

Martin stopped, swallowing as his eyes flitted over her appearance.

She had stopped in the doorway, beaming at him - her brown eyes sparkling, the smile on her face big and gorgeous.  
Standing in the doorway, she beamed at him, brushing her light brown hair behind her ear on the right side.  
There she stood, now leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but her black panties and his light blue shirt - every button undone; bare skin, tender skin; the shirt revealing her belly, caressing her cleavage.

Martin licked his lips. 

"Hey,... you're up already... ", Emma murmured in a soft and calm voice.  
Again, Martin licked his lips, looked at his young girlfriend, cleared his throat briefly.  
"I… wanted to come back to bed."  
Emma beamed at him, stepped across the hallway, came closer to him, stretched out her arms, exposing more bare tender skin.  
"That sounds fantastic, that's where I'd like to take you again."

Martin smiled, stepped closer too, grabbed the young woman, lifted her up on his arms; his arms under her bum, he looked up at her.

"Since my birthday girl is awake and looking outrageously sexy, I'd love to escort her back to bed, making love to her," he murmured flirtatiously, stretching his head, capturing her lips with his for a few moments. "Happy birthday, Em." he breathed purring against her lips, carrying her across the hall. 

Emma put her arms around Martin's neck, beaming down at him, also capturing his lips briefly with hers, feeling his bare skin against her bare skin - his torso felt warm. She bit his lower lip gently, nibbling on it, liking being carried back to the bedroom on his arms. 

"Hmmm, thank you ħanini - is making love to me my birthday present?" she murmured against his lips.  
"No,... the presents come after the snacking, my sweet birthday girl," he purred flirtatiously against the 31-year-old's lips.

He knelt down in bed, laid Emma on the soft mattress, crawled over her - the shirt no longer hiding her breasts.  
He licked his lips, let his eyes dart over her delicate features, let the blue eyes sparkle enamoured.

"This is probably the greatest birthday I've had so far," Emma breathed, enjoying his intense gaze.  
"Because you'll be having an intense orgasm before opening my presents?" asked Martin murmuring and flirtatious, cheeky and charming, leaning down to her, kissing her lips.  
"Because you're by my side," she breathed the real reason.

A smile settled on Martin's lips, which Emma could feel on her lips as well.  
Gritting his teeth, he enticed Emma into his loving kiss, a tender and soft kiss.  
Breathing, his lips kissed hers. 

Emma smiled at his lips, smiled into the tender and breathy kiss, enjoyed feeling his lips - very close to her, giving her a deep feeling of security and love.  
No matter what gifts would be waiting for her today on her 31st birthday, Martin would be the best present for her this year - a gift Laura and Lamar had given her.

She let her hand stroke over his luscious and firm butt, let her hand wander over his back - fingertips nuzzling the bare skin, nuzzling the back of his neck.  
Her fingers dug into the grey hair.  
Gently her other hand stroked up his arm, tenderly over his shoulder - the fingertips felt his goose bumps. Tenderly she caressed down his back, sneaking her fingers into his black shorts, feeling his lips sucking at her neck.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
**\- the same day, late afternoon/early evening -**

Breezy December air brushed through Martin's hair, who stood with closed eyes at the glass railing of the balcony.  
He had been watching the beginning of the sunset - it was shortly before 5 pm.  
The mild December air brushed through his hair, a hand lay gently on his cheek, tender lips kissed him devotedly.

His heart was beating fast, the butterflies danced wildly, his whole body tingled warmly.

Through the window Martin and Emma were observed kissing.

"Mother! Come away from the window!" said George, Emma's father.  
Carlotta did not turn her head away from the window, literally pressed her nose against it, for her nose was actually touching the glass of the window.  
"You were watching them yourself earlier. So you're the last person who should be admonishing me here, Georgie." she said calmly, glaring at the kissing couple on the balcony.  
"I merely looked to them when Martin gave her a kiss on the cheek while drinking her coffee! That's something completely different! I wasn't gawping," the 54-year-old said.  
"You're disturbing the harmony and happiness in me, my kissing granddaughter and her new boyfriend gave me… with your bleating," Carlotta said unperturbed - she looked out at Martin and Emma who were standing on the balcony kissing in a glorious scenery, intimate and very much in love.

Behind the kitchen island, Matteo grinned at his father and grandmother, next to him stood his mother, also watching the spectacle at the large window.  
"Your father actually wants to watch as much as your grandma," Eliza said with a grin as George tugged on his mother's arm, but she remained stubbornly in front of the window.  
Matteo turned his head to his mother, smirking broadly at her.  
"I know someone else who would love to be a fly on the wall. You." he grinned.  
"You'd better be quiet, my dear," she grinned, "…because you're just as much a part of the circle of people who would like to be a fly on the wall."  
"Caught." smiled Matteo, turning his head back to his grandmother and father - his father was now also standing very close to the window, looking out. "I like him. A gorgeous man for my little sister."  
"A gorgeous man for your little sister and my daughter," Eliza smiled. "I really like him too," the 54-year-old said. "It's nice that he's here, that the two of them can spend some time together... and that we have the opportunity to get to know him."  
Matteo nodded with a smile - he enthusiastically watched films in which Martin was to be seen, but he was not only enthusiastic about the actor, he was even more enthusiastic about the man itself; and he knew that his mother, father and grandmother also felt the same enthusiasm for this man on the balcony.

George and Carlotta still pressed their noses against the window - their hearts beating enthusiastically.  
George beamed at his daughter.  
He had only met Martin less than 2 hours ago, but he would already allow the man from England to marry his daughter - and the Maltese policeman would never give his daughter away recklessly. But there was a familiar and trustful feeling in him since the first handshake with Martin, which he had turned into a hug right away.  
With that first hello, Martin had become family.  
"A very nice sunset." he said as he looked out - Martin and Emma were still kissing on the balcony, the sun still setting in the background.  
"Yes, a very beautiful view." beamed Carlotta.  
She glanced at her granddaughter who, even before the kiss ended, was again engaged in a loving kiss by Martin.  
She beamed, had taken Martin very much to her heart in the last two hours - she liked the man who was so wonderfully natural and authentic, who was so wonderfully funny and quick-witted, who treated her granddaughter so wonderfully well and made her happy, who simply fitted into their family just like a missing piece of puzzle; with his wit and charm, with his British politeness and authentic swearing.  
She was delighted.

Martin captured Emma's lip between his teeth, slowly released it, breathed a gentle kiss on her lips.  
"Do you hear the chatter of your grandmother and father too?", Martin whispered very softly and barely noticeable against Emma's tender lips.  
"Yes.", Emma breathed with a smirk against Martin's lips, just for him. "And in the corner of my eye I can see them watching us." she murmured very softly against Martin's lips, kissing them afterwards. "My grandmother and father are watching your hands massaging my butt," she grinned against his lips.  
Slowly Martin released the passionate grip, letting his hands move to her back.

Emma laughed, breathing a kiss on his cheek as she did so. 

"I love you, ħanini."  
"I love you too, Em."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had set, and the evening had come. 

Matteo and Carlotta set the table for a family Maltese birthday dinner.  
Emma and Eliza were in the kitchen preparing the last things for dinner.  
Martin and George were sitting on the balcony, they had been left to idle and relax.

Eliza turned to her daughter who was preparing the dressing for the salad.  
She raised her hand, caressed the earring her daughter wore - the elegant and classy earrings hung sparkling from her ears; round little diamonds and at the end of them a South Sea pearl.  
A matching fine necklace, also very classy and elegant, hung around her daughter's neck, embellishing her décolleté - the pendant was a small round diamond, also with a South Sea pearl hanging from it.  
As Eliza herself ran a jewellery shop, she had recognised the authenticity of the pearls, as well as the authenticity of the diamonds.  
They were really very beautiful and elegant pieces of jewellery that flattered her daughter very much. 

"Martin has really given you a very nice present - the earrings and also the necklace are beautiful," she said, repeating herself for the tenth time.  
Emma turned her head to her mother, her eyes glowing and radiant, she grabbed her other ear herself, stroking the pearl.  
"Yes! God, they are stunningly beautiful, aren't they?" repeated Emma again too. "I've also let Martin know several times that I really love his gift – the last time I thanked him he made me shut up, kissing me until we laughed."  
She grinned with her mum, then smiled with her.  
"They are two really quite extraordinary birthday presents. The two most beautiful ones today?" she asked her daughter with joyful eyes.  
Emma beamed, also briefly stroking the pearl on her cleavage - gently his fingers had stroked her neck as he had put the necklace on her after unwrapping and admiring it; gently his lips had kissed her neck after putting it on; her heart was beating faster.  
"He is the most beautiful present - and if only he had given me a birthday card this morning, I would have been extremely happy."  
"He really is a very nice present. You make a very cute couple - and I'm sure he knows too that a birthday card would have been enough for you," Eliza smiled and kissed her daughter's cheek. "You know Martin was indeed a gift... and gifts shouldn’t be given back, so don't let him go again."  
"There's no way I'm going to let him go - I'll take good care of him and us."

Eliza breathed another kiss on Emma's cheek, hugged her, stroked her daughter's back.  
She was very happy for her and Martin, thrilled with her daughter's new partner. Quite an enchanting man, in her opinion.  
She had been able to get to know him for a few hours now, and she really liked the way he treated her daughter, the way he behaved with her, the way he looked at her and talked to her, the way he made her laugh, flirted with her and flattered her.  
She had been allowed to get to know him for a few hours now, and she liked the way he behaved with them - polite and respectful, very warm and open, very charming and relaxed, very natural and authentic.  
She had the impression that he was feeling very comfortable, cosy and secure - she, at least, felt very comfortable and at ease in his presence; it was his behaviour and personality, and the fact that Martin made her daughter happy and feeling loved. 

Martin and George were sitting on the big balcony - they were not only looking at the sea; they sat around the corner, looking at the sea and Valletta; sitting next to each other. 

George looked at Valletta - the 54-year-old was sitting comfortably on a chair; his eyes were brown, his hair dark brown and streaked with a few grey strands; his nose was immaculate, his cheeks shaved; he was taller than Martin and in him and also in his wife was clearly to see where the good genes of his girlfriend came from; but Martin had already recognised that even in Grandma Carlotta.  
George turned his head to Martin - the 49-year-old looked enthusiastically at Valletta; his eyes blue, his hair grey; a three-day beard adorned his cheeks, dark framed glasses sat on his nose.

"It's really great that we could welcome you to the family. It's good to have you here - Emma's delighted, and so are we," he said in a warm, deep voice.  
Martin turned his head around.  
"Thank you for your warmth and hospitality. I was very pleased to meet you too - even if I nearly drove Emma crazy with my nervousness at lunchtime today."  
George grinned.  
"Why were you nervous?"  
"Honestly just because... well because of our age difference. I'm eighteen years older than your daughter... and only five years younger than you and Eliza."

George tilted his head, turned to Martin, put his hand on Martin's shoulder.

"What can I say, Martin? 18 years are a very huge age difference. I couldn't imagine it myself, but I fell in love with Eliza when I was 13 - who knows where I would have found love if not in Eliza." he smiled. "All we want is to know our children are happy - and Emma is very happy with you. And honestly, you are the first decent man by my daughter's side. The boyfriends at her age were really good for nothing and didn’t deserve her one bit," George smirked. "Thank goodness Emma was always quick to notice that too. Emma is no woman for a man her age. Eliza and I have been expecting her to introduce us to a much older partner at some point over the last few years. You make a great couple and it's nice to know you're family," George said honestly. "Oh,... and I'm really glad you're the man by my daughter's side. You really deserve her because you treat her like I want her to be treated."  
Martin turned to George as well.  
"Thank you, George,… that means a lot to me. You really do have a stunning and amazing daughter - I promise I'll take good care of her."  
"I have no doubt you will," George smiled and squeezed Martin's shoulder. "I'm really grateful to your sister for playing Cupid – and that she succeeded.”  
"I am also very grateful to her for the souvenir from Malta," Martin beamed.

Emma came around the corner, smiling at the two men. 

"Well… you two." she beamed.  
George and Martin turned their heads to look at her, smiling.  
Martin beamed amorously.  
George beamed paternally.  
"The birthday girl." winked Martin.

Emma came closer, stroked her father's shoulder, smiled at Martin, came to him.  
She caressed her grey hair, then smiled at him and her father.  
"I just wanted to say that dinner will be ready in a minute."  
George beamed.  
"Oh wonderful! We've already had lots of cake, but I've been looking forward to feasting for the last few days," he said, standing up. He looked at Martin and Emma - his daughter had just sat down on Martin's lap. "Don't snog as long as you did in the sunset earlier," he grinned with a wink.  
Martin and Emma laughed.  
"You're only saying that because you can't watch us here," Emma grinned widely.  
"I don't know what you're talking about," George grinned. "If you're not at the dinner table in ten minutes, we'll come and get you."  
Martin and Emma laughed again, glaring after a giggling George. 

Martin and Emma turned their heads to each other, grinning widely. 

Martin put his arms around Emma, blew a kiss on her cheek.  
"My little Emma." he breathed softly. "I hope you're enjoying your birthday so far."  
"My man from England, I'm really enjoying my birthday so far," Emma beamed, kissing Martin's lips. "It's great to celebrate it together, to have you with me, to enjoy time with you. It's great that you feel comfortable, that you get along with my family; and the presents were wonderful too."  
"I feel very comfortable - with you, in Malta, with your family. It's terrible that a week has gone by already," he murmured, stealing a kiss.  
Emma put her arms around Martin's neck.  
"Don't remind me," she murmured, cuddling against his body.  
Martin pressed her against him, rubbing her back.

Tenderly, Martin's fingers crawled Emma's back.  
Emma nuzzled her face into the crook of Martin's neck, purring.  
Martin turned his head to her, kissed her hair, then rested his cheek on the top of her head.

"Em... " he murmured lovestruck.

He turned his head again, kissed her hair again - still crawling Emma's back, very gently and tenderly. 

"I love you.", he breathed in a warm and nasal voice - it was a tender flirtatious whisper. 

Emma smiled, snuggled even more onto his lap, nestled even more against his body and into his embrace, nuzzled her face even more into the crook of his neck.  
Her tender lips kissed his neck.  
Her nose sniffed his neck - sniffed his perfume and his very own scent; both of which she loved.  
"I love you, ħanini."  
Martin smiled, letting his fingers wander gently to her neck, nuzzling her neck, feeling her snuggle up to him even more. 

"Woman from Malta, I think our ten minutes are almost up."  
"Can't imagine we've been cuddling for ten minutes."

Martin smirked, turned his head, kissed the hair again, suddenly heard a voice that didn't belong to Emma. 

"Can the birthday girl come to dinner with her most amazing present?" asked Carlotta, but next to her were George, Matteo and Eliza.  
"You guys are incredibly pushy," Emma smirked, still nuzzling the crook of Martin's neck.

Hearty laughter rang out on the balcony - not only from the throats of Emma's family, not only from Martin, but also from the birthday girl herself.


	37. Steaming Records

_**\- Sunday, December/13 - 2020, Malta, Valletta, Steaming Records -** _

The red door slammed shut.  
The shop was empty and dark, had closed two hours ago. 

Emma turned on the nostalgic lights, giving the cosy shop a charming atmosphere.  
She knelt down next to the door, switched on the lights of the Christmas tree standing next to the door.  
A hand was held out to her.  
Emma smiled, put her hand in Martin's, let herself be helped up. 

Martin smiled at her, didn't let go of her hand, even pulled her back a little as she made her way to the counter.  
Gently she stumbled against his body.  
The blue eyes beamed at Emma, languishingly, sank deep into her brown eyes.  
He entwined his hand with hers, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. 

"Are you okay?" asked Emma's soft voice, smiling.  
"Yes.", Martin breathed, gently squeezing Emma's hand, leaning down slightly to her, kissing her lips. "You're just taking my breath away," he murmured against her lips. 

Emma put a hand on Martin's lower back, stroking the long-sleeved polo shirt. She kissed his lips, kissing him softly, smiling against his lips.  
"You take my breath away too, ħanini," she murmured against his lips. "It's good to have you here," she whispered after another kiss.  
Martin smiled, kissed her lips again, breathed another on her cheek after the tender kiss on the lips.  
"It's very nice to be with you," he breathed enamoured. Another tender kiss for her cheek. "And I may have said it a few times already, but it was fantastic to meet your family yesterday - and to have been warmly welcomed by them." he murmured, kissing Emma's cheek again very gently; still holding her hand. "Laura's souvenir is truly stunning and incredibly precious," he murmured in her ear.  
Emma nuzzled her cheek against his, already having closed her eyes, enjoying his words and his voice, his kisses and his hand holding hers. 

She knew he hadn't just been talking about her, that he had also meant her family, who were very precious to him. She was glad that he felt comfortable, that he felt included, that he liked her family - and it was an equally great feeling to know that her family also liked Martin very much.  
She liked the harmony between them, liked how this visit was going and progressing, that she and Martin were getting even closer, that they were settling down even more in their young and fresh relationship, that they felt more and more that they were indeed just made for each other.

Gently Martin's lips kissed from her cheek to her lips. He delicately licked her lower lip with his tongue, kissed her gently, nibbled her tender lips with his teeth. He tempted her into an intimate kiss, heard her purr into the kiss, felt her hand wander up his back.  
With hearts pounding, their tongues danced. 

Kissing passionately, they stood in the shop, close together, still holding hands, while their free hands were gently buried in each other's hair. 

Hearts pounding, they stopped their kiss, sucking the air deep into their lungs. A soft kiss they exchanged, smiling against each other's lips. 

"It's really hard to keep my hands off you," Martin smiled.  
"And you're standing in your own personal paradise right now," Emma smiled softly against Martin's lips.  
"There you see what you're doing to me, Em.", Martin grinned and stole another kiss. 

Emma leaned back a little, ran her hand through Martin's grey hair, disengaged her hand from his, nudged his nose, stole a quick kiss, then sauntered through the shop.  
She turned to him, walked slowly backwards.

"What can I offer the handsome man from England for dessert?"

Martin turned his head towards her, following her every step with his blue eyes – the heart leapt into his throat; he could still hardly believe what a wonderful souvenir his sister had brought him from her holiday, and that this stunningly beautiful souvenir had fallen in love with him, that he had managed to win her heart.  
His blue eyes were beaming at Emma; his heart was leaping into his throat; the butterflies in his stomach were going crazy as they often do because of her; his body was tingling warm and comforting; his knees were feeling soft - he hadn't answered yet.

"Hey, adorable man from England, you're pretty distracted today."

Martin blinked a few times, ran a hand through his hair, looked confusedly at Emma, who was already standing behind the counter.  
He licked his lips.

"Sorry,... it's you that's distracting me too much," he smiled, moving closer. "What did you ask me?"  
"I wanted to know what drink I could offer the gorgeous man from England for dessert," she winked. 

Martin smiled, came closer, paced the shop, came to the counter.  
He propped his hands on the long counter, leaned past the Plexiglas, leaned over the counter - his blue eyes beaming at her.

"I'd like to enjoy your delicious Christmas herbal tea, beautiful woman from Malta," he smiled, making a kissy mouth.

Emma smiled, came to him, gave him a kiss, winked flirtatiously as Martin got right back on his feet and beamed across the counter.

"Browse through the records, you amorous old dork." she smirked fondly, reaching out and tousling his grey hair.  
Martin grinned, propped himself up on the counter again, leaned over it again, grabbed the collar of Emma's blouse, pulled her closer again, stole another kiss, bit her lower lip gently, stole a second kiss.  
"You're a lovey-dovey sop yourself, young lady," he grinned, getting to his feet again.

Emma grinned up at him, seeing his charming and flirtatiously wink before he simply turned his back on her and walked over to the records, actually browsing through them.  
She watched him for a few moments, feeling her heart leap into her throat, feeling her body tingle warmly and comfortingly, feeling the butterflies fly in her tummy; feeling her knees go soft.  
Her grin became a blissful and lovestruck smile.  
As crazy and different, as difficult for lots of people, this year had been, for her it had held something very special and extraordinary – the love of her life; a man who had just called her a lovey-dovey sop.  
She had to grin again, her heart was beating warmly - he had only called her a lovey-dovey sop because she had called him an amorous dork; she loved to be foolish and silly with him.

Her amorous dork was just leisurely browsing through the records he had been browsing through almost every evening so far - sometimes with a coffee, sometimes with a hot chocolate, even already with a cup of tea.  
They had come here almost every evening for a little detour, to chat, to browse, to listen to music and to enjoy their time together.  
Her amorous dork found a record, went to the record player, laid on the swing record. 

The music sounded in the shop.

Emma's eyes followed Martin's next steps; she watched him as he walked through the shop, browsing at different books, calm and quiet; interested.  
It was not easy to tear herself away from him, to take her eyes off him.  
Several times she blinked, tore herself away from him with difficulty, made his tea and for herself a latte.

Martin enjoyed the music in his ears, enjoyed everything that was before his eyes - he walked through the shop, sat down on the nostalgic dark green soft couch that was close to the Christmas tree.  
He pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket, had felt the vibration of it.  
His eyes read his son's message, lips pulled into a smile, then a grin.

_Next time you fly to Malta you have to take us with you. The picture of you and Emma looks great! You are a hot couple ;-) – hopefully, Gracie will bring me back such a hot souvenir from her holiday in a few years too._

_**If that souvenir is your first girlfriend in a few years, I'm cool with that ;-)** _

_Gracie's only 12, Dad! You can't be serious that I have to wait another 6 years until Gracie possibly goes on holiday on her own, bringing me a hot girlfriend as a souvenir._

Martin laughed, made room on the couch for Emma, who now sat down next to him with tea and latte - he let her read along.

_**I had to wait 48 years for that souvenir, darling.** _

_Yes, for the hot souvenir. But not for your first girlfriend._

_**:-D Could you please stop calling my girlfriend hot in every text message? Go and do something with your sister so she will love you even more, bringing you back a great souvenir from her first very own holiday ;-). We'll Skype tomorrow night. We look forward to seeing you two. Love you Joe - and give Gracie a kiss from me too. :-* :-* <3 <3** _

Emma laughed, glancing at the mobile phone Martin laid on the table.  
She turned her head to Martin, grinning widely.  
Martin had turned his head to Emma, grinning too - his eyes scrutinising Emma's expression, scrutinising her eyes.

"I just have to agree with my son... you really are a hot souvenir," Martin flirted charmingly. 

Emma grinned broadly at him, running her hand through Martin's hair, letting her fingertips caress his cheek, her thumb caressing Martin's lips. Her eyes scrutinised him, scrutinised his eyes - she looked deep into them.

"He just forgot that his father's hot girlfriend was a gift to a pretty hot man herself," she winked. 

Martin winked at her too, slid closer, put a hand on her thigh - fingertips rubbing gently and tenderly over her thigh. He leaned towards her, breathed a kiss on her temple.

"I think my fifteen-year-old son needs his first girlfriend." he smirked at Emma's temple, then kissed her again - very intimately.  
"I think so too," Emma giggled, enjoying the small intimate kisses on her temple.

Martin breathed another kiss on her temple, then leaned back a little again, winking at her.  
"He really likes you for other reasons very much too."  
"I know that, Martin," Emma smiled. She leaned forward, kissed him. "Did you ever think one of your brothers' girlfriends was hot?"  
"As a matter of fact, yes," Martin smiled. "Jamie's second girlfriend. I was 15 then, too, just like Joe - and she was 20."  
"So, tell me that little story." Emma said with interest - had no problem with Joe calling her hot, because she didn't get the impression that he was in love with her or having a massive crush on her, but that like any boy his age he thought of some older women as attractive and had a bit of a crush on them; her brother had gone through the same phase of life.  
"I thought she was hot, had a bit of a crush on her, but there hadn't been any feelings for me - it had just been adolescent rhapsody; I was attracted by life experience, like probably any boy that age. She and Jamie had been in a relationship for a few years. I didn't see her again for ages until we bumped into each other last year. We went for a drink, for old times' sake - it was nice, then she flirted intrusively – and this was the end of the nice evening for me. I didn't respond to her flirting - it had been too pushy, too obvious that she was just looking for fun," he shrugged.  
"So I guess she was obviously trying to seduce her ex-boyfriend's hot and famous little brother for a night full of sex."  
"Hmm.", Martin nodded. "The only one I want to seduce me for a night full of sex is you."  
Emma smiled, stealing a kiss, enjoying the taste and feel of his lips.  
"May I seduce you to tea too?"  
"You may." he breathed, stealing a kiss as well. "After the latte, may I seduce you to dance with me?"  
Again Emma stole a kiss, enjoying the many soft and enamoured touches and kisses with him.  
"You may."  
A kiss they exchanged, then a smile circled around their lips.

They turned their heads to the cups, took their cup, leaned back against the back of the sofa, made themselves comfortable.

Emma rested her legs lightly on Martin's lap, looking at him over the rim of the cup.  
Martin put a hand on Emma's knee, sipping the tea with relish, enjoying the togetherness with Emma in this beautiful paradise. 

He sipped the tea, she sipped the latte.  
Together they listened to the music, together they enjoyed the cosiness. 

Even while enjoying tea and latte, without words, just listening to the music, there was a romantic and intense crackling between them. 

It was Martin who got up half an hour later to put on a new record - Swing again, this time by Benny Goodman.  
He liked to end the evening and day in the record shop again, liked to enjoy time here with Emma, chatting, listening to music and dancing with her - it was a lot of fun to dance with her.  
She really brought lots of joy into his life.  
It was Martin who, half an hour later, not only changed the record and neatly put the previous one away, but it was also him who joined Emma at the couch and held his hand down to her invitingly. 

"May I ask the lovey-dovey sop for a dance?"

Emma glanced at Martin's hand, smiled up at him, beamed at him, put her hand in his and let him help her up.

"You may, my amorous old dork."

She felt very much like dancing with him, for not only did she generally enjoy it very much, but she also loved dancing with Martin, who was an excellent dancer - he had proved that many times, not only here in Malta.  
Emma let herself be guided by Martin, followed him, already hearing the tones of Benny Goodman’s music. 

A slower song, but one that picked up speed. 

They had both mastered Swing dancing, and they had also demonstrated this with each other several times - not only here in Malta either. 

They let themselves be infected by the good music, let themselves be infected by the song that was getting faster, danced exuberantly with each other, beamed at each other, laughed together, flirted with their looks and with touches as they danced. 

Emma was whirled around the room, always very close to Martin's body. 

Their dancing was full of verve, wild and exuberant, they matched the beat of the music, suited the Swing song perfectly. 

The song ended exuberantly; the tones of the next song sounded - also with a slow start, but this one would remain slow. 

Martin pulled Emma into his arms, panting.  
"Now it's very obvious that you're older than I am - I'm panting, like a walrus, and you're breathing as serenely as if you'd just been meditating," Martin panted into Emma's ear as they danced in a cuddle and snuggle.  
"You meant you’re older than me," Emma laughed.  
"Oh,... yes. I think the end is not far off; it’s just going downhill from now on", Martin smirked because of his blooper.  
"Do you still remember my name?" grinned Emma.  
"Yeah, of course I do, Mema!", he grinned mischievously.  
"And do you remember where we are?" laughed Emma.  
"Yep. In your shop - Frosted Cassettes.", he grinned mischievously at her ear again.

Emma laughed, kissing his ear - her breath brushing over it.  
Martin grinned and breathed a kiss on her ear too - it was he who spoke what she was thinking.

"Buffu." he whispered in Emma's ear, titling himself a joker and a clown; he breathed a kiss on Emma's cheek, continued to dance with her.

Emma grinned, put her hand to his neck, breathed a kiss on his cheek too, as he danced skilfully with her.  
She had a huge desire to dance with this buffu and amorous old dork all night long.


	38. Gozitans

_**\- Tuesday, December/15 - 2020, Malta -** _

"Next year in December you have to visit me again," Emma said - a few minutes ago they had boarded the Gozo Channel ferry in Cirkewwa harbour, now they were standing on the second deck enjoying the view over the blue glittering sea.

After an early breakfast and a shared shower, they had set off for Cirkewwa by car.  
The car was now parked in the car park of the ferry port; even so they could have taken it with them on the ferry, they had decided against it.

Gozo was their destination today, the second largest island in the Maltese archipelago. 

By bus and on foot they would enjoy their trip today.  
By bus and on foot, Emma would show her boyfriend a part of Gozo.

The ferry was not busy, only a few passengers and only three cars had boarded the ferry.   
The few other passengers were not in the small kiosk or in the restaurant below the deck; the few other passengers were on the two decks of the ferry enjoying the good weather. 

The sun was shining.  
The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight.  
The thermometer showed 20 degrees. 

Martin looked across the wide sea, could see the island of Gozo from afar, could also see the closer island of Comino, which they had already explored.   
They had not taken the big ferry to Comino, but a small boat - he had enjoyed the excursion very much, as he had enjoyed every excursion so far with Emma, who introduced him to her country with love and enthusiasm.  
He was no longer just in love with the Maltese young woman next to him - during all the excursions he had also fallen in love with the country and its culture. 

He turned his head to Emma, looking at her through sunglasses, beaming at her, even if she couldn't really see the radiance because of the dark mask and dark lenses of the sunglasses.

"I hope you'll let me visit you before December, too,…if it's possible," the voice breathed enamoured. 

Emma beamed at Martin too, beaming at him through the mask and sunglasses as the ferry now slowly set for Gozo.   
"You are welcome every day of the year," she smiled - standing so close to him that their bodies were touching. "But in December, you definitely have to come."  
"Why?" smiled Martin behind the mask - leaning, like Emma, with his forearms on the wooden railing, letting the fingers of his right hand intertwine with her fingers of her left hand.   
"Because it actually rains a lot more in December, and it's not as warm either - but from the moment you arrived, the sun has been shining ever since." She squeezed his hand.  
Martin's eyes flashed cheekily behind his sunglasses.  
"Well, I always eat everything from my plate, I'm generally very well-behaved and an absolute sunshine."  
Emma laughed heartily.  
"You do indeed always eat everything from your plate... but if the weather depended on your good behaviour, it would rain all the time," she grinned.   
She pulled her mask from her nose and mouth, pursed her lips.

Martin laughed behind the mask, but then pulled it under his chin as well.  
He leaned his head a little more towards her, kissed her puckered lips.  
"Then a rain cloud would accompany you too, Miss Cheeky," he murmured against her lips.  
Again he kissed her; kissed her lips soft and loving, teasing and tender.  
That he was floating on the fluffiest cloud nine was plain to see and to feel.

Emma grinned into the first little kisses, but then she returned the amorous kisses that showed her quite clearly in which cloud he was floating with her. Her heart beat fast and lovestruck, her stomach tingled pleasantly and comfortingly, her knees felt soft.   
She squeezed his hand again, enjoying holding hands with him, feeling him and being touched by him.

One last kiss met Emma's lips, a very warm smile was given her, but then the warm and amorous smile disappeared again behind a navy-blue fabric mask.   
Emma leaned a little towards him, kissed the ear very gently - whispered.

"I love you... "  
At her lips she felt the movement of his ear caused by his happy smile.   
His head turned to her, his hand squeezing hers.  
"I love you too, Em... " he murmured charmingly, enamoured behind his mask. 

They looked at each other, smiled behind the mask, squeezed her hand, freed their hands, stood upright against the railing. 

Martin took out his smartphone, turned his head back to the vast sea, enjoyed the great weather, the gentle sea breeze, the breathtaking view and the extraordinary woman next to him who put her arm around his waist.   
He felt better than he had ever felt in his life.  
His index finger snapped a few pictures, photographing the sea, Gozo and Comino in the distance, other boats, part of the ferry – taking a selfie of himself and Emma. 

He would be able to enjoy the ferry ride for 25 minutes; and he would make the most of these 25 minutes, even though he was already looking forward to Gozo and Emma's sightseeing tour.

Not only had he given his whole heart to Emma; he had also given it to Malta, and with that, he had officially fallen more in love with the Maltese archipelago than he had with his years-long destination Italy. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For 25 minutes, Emma and Martin had enjoyed the fresh sea breeze, the view, the time together and the sun on the ferry.   
Hand in hand, they had left the ferry, boarded the bus at the ferry terminal in Ghajnsielem/Mġarr to Victoria, the island's capital.   
It took 14 minutes for Emma and Martin to travel from the harbour in Mġarr to the Gozitan capital Victoria - and during the 14-minute ride, Martin listened attentively and with interest, looking out the window, to Emma's stories about the Gozitan capital. 

Hand in hand, they strolled from the large bus stop through the streets of Victoria – both of them with their masks over their mouths and noses; their eyes peering through sunglasses. 

They strolled through the streets, strolled a few minutes to St. George's Square - which usually, no matter what time of the year or day, was crowded with people in the cafés and restaurants; at the moment there were only a few tables in front of the cafés and restaurants, at the moment only a few seats were occupied with enough space between them. 

Emma and Martin strolled across the square, passing the cafes and restaurants, passing the small shops and the sandstone-coloured architecture that resembled these in Malta. 

Hand in hand, they entered a shop, still laughing at Emma's quick-witted comment on Martin's cheeky saying. 

"Here are the two lovebirds at last!" an elderly lady said loudly and happily - thus also catching the attention of the only customers in the jewellery shop; a couple about Emma's age.

Martin and Emma crossed the jewellery shop, haunted by the eyes of the young couple, before the couple turned their attention back to the rings in front of them.   
Emma and Martin glanced at Eliza and Carlotta, who were standing behind the sales counter.  
They had arranged to meet Eliza here, but they hadn't expected Grandma Carlotta to be here too.

"There are customers in the shop, Grandma," Emma grinned. "What are you doing here anyway?"  
"I got up extra early to help my daughter-in-law in the shop," Carlotta said, sending an air kiss to Emma and one to Martin.  
"By that your grandma means she got up extra early to have coffee with me in the shop and wait for you guys," Eliza smirked and also sent two air kisses to Martin and Emma.   
"I couldn't miss those two lovebirds, could I?" Carlotta smiled, because she had really only come to the shop to see Martin and Emma. 

She stepped out from behind the counter, looking elegant and casual as always - she also wore a cloth mask that matched her clothes.  
She opened her arms - even stepped to Martin first.

"I must greet you properly." she said and immediately took Martin in her arms very warmly, as if she were hugging and greeting a beloved family member. 

Martin smiled - he had the feeling, even if it had only been a rather brief glance, that the young couple had recognised him despite his mask and sunglasses.   
The smile on his face radiated warmth and cordiality, happiness and contentment - it didn't bother him that he had been recognised, nor that Carlotta had loudly called him and Emma lovebirds; he hadn't wanted to hold anything back with Emma, not with the love of his life.   
And he had resolved not to think so much about the press or the public; he had resolved just to enjoy himself, to exchange caresses whenever he wanted, and not to bother with paparazzi pictures should there be any.   
Emma made it incredibly easy for him to keep this resolution - with her he could simply enjoy and exchange caresses in complete confidence whenever he wanted to; and he had to say that even if kissing paparazzi pictures got out to the public, he simply wouldn't care or be bothered by it; all that mattered was Emma, the relationship with her, and the shared enjoyment of their deep love.

He released his hand from Emma's and put his arms around Carlotta, giving her a very warm hug as well - it was nice to be appreciated so much by Emma's family. 

"It's good to see you, Carlotta," Martin smiled after the hug.   
"It's very good to see you too, Martin.", Carlotta rejoiced, rubbing his back grandmotherly, even though she was still younger than his own, sadly already deceased, mother. 

They smiled at each other, taking a step back. 

"Oh come here.", he already heard the voice of Eliza, who also stepped in front of the counter and opened her arms very warmly - she had been born the same year as his brother Jamie. She warmly wrapped her arms around him, welcoming him appreciatively and warmly. "It's good to have you here. Did you enjoy the ferry ride?" she asked her new son-in-law.  
In the corner of his eye, Martin could see that Emma was now being hugged by Carlotta.  
He returned Eliza's hug, greeting her warmly as well, still overwhelmed and touched by Emma's family and how warmly they had welcomed him.  
He leaned back a little, smiling at his new mother-in-law.  
"It's good to see you too," his warm voice said. "The ferry ride was great," he nodded. "Emma just had to kick me out of bed a bit this morning," he smirked. 

Eliza smirked behind the mask; she squeezed his upper arm, rubbing it, happy to see her daughter and her new son-in-law, whom she had already taken very much to her heart. 

Emma was also hugged by her mother, while Martin was already whisked away by Carlotta to the small break room.  
While Eliza hugged her daughter, Carlotta presented Martin coffee, tea and her homemade cinnamon cream cake. 

It didn't take another ten seconds and he was not only sitting comfortably on one of the armchairs in the break room - a cup of tea his hand as well as a plate with a large slice of cinnamon cream cake.  
He had actually only wanted a small slice, but Carlotta had meant it very well with him, spoiling him with an extra big slice of her homemade cream cake.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Martin and Emma had stayed with Eliza and Carlotta for an hour, being pampered, chatting with them - and once again it had been noticeable that Emma's family had taken the man from England very much to their hearts. 

Hand in hand, Emma and Martin strolled through the Gozitan December sun, which was still seen in the cloudless sky and now offered them even two degrees more warmth. 

"Your grandma put such a big slice of her cream cake on my plate that I have to swim back to Malta."  
Emma laughed next to Martin - leading him to the Citadel of Victoria; the fortified town within the capital.  
"I think the little Gozo tour will be enough to work off the calories," Emma grinned, strolling with Martin past the quaint Maltese sandstone buildings.  
Martin grinned behind the mask, squeezing Emma's hand, gently stroking his thumb back and forth.  
"I'm not so sure about that - after all, I was 'forced' to eat two slices."  
Emma laughed again.  
"Yes, poor Martin - I saw how much you struggled and squirmed when you pleadingly handed her the plate for another slice of her delicious cinnamon cream cake."  
Martin laughed, squeezing Emma's hand again.  
"Em,... that was my acting talent." he said seriously without showing a cheeky sparkle, but inside he was grinning broadly and cheekily - he was stuffed with cake, but the cinnamon cream cake had been just a little too delicious.  
"I'd call it more of an immoderate greed for cake," Emma grinned. 

Martin laughed, withdrew his hand, put his arm around her shoulder, stretched his head towards her - he didn't pull the mask down, he just whispered something in her ear.

"Between you and me,... you're right," he whispered. "But shhh,... don't tell anyone."

Emma laughed at Martin's nonsense, feeling goosebumps spread because of his whisper. His voice was music to her ears, whether it whispered, laughed, chatted, sounded cheeky, sounded charming; and she loved any other pitch of voice very much too. 

"Your secret is safe with me, you little cake greedy-guts," she grinned now, coming to a halt.

Eyes grinned at each other through the sunglasses.  
Ocean blue grinned into chocolate brown.  
Chocolate brown grinned into ocean blue.  
They pulled their masks down together - they saw the other grinning. 

Their lips touched longingly, whispering as they did so.

"Buffu.", Emma whispered against Martin's lips, calling him a joker for his silliness.  
"Buffu.", Martin whispered at the same time, to say the very word that had been on Emma's lips.

They grinned against each other's lips, kissing each other breathlessly, kissing each other's lips tenderly, kissing each other's lips demanding and firmly. 

The mask moved over their mouths and noses again, their eyes now gazing through their sunglasses in love.  
Chocolate brown looked up at ocean blue.  
Ocean blue looked dreamily at chocolate brown.  
A smile was on their lips behind the mask.

Martin lowered his arm again, letting his fingers intertwine with Emma's.

He was very much looking forward to all that they would experience today; very much looking forward to Emma's tour, no matter where she would take him today.   
A thousand questions were already on his lips. 

"Where are you taking me right now?" he asked the first question.  
"To the Citadel of Gozo," Emma smiled. "It's been here since the Middle Ages - and it's been used as a refuge during attacks ever since," Emma smiled, and she could sense that Martin was already hanging on her every word. "In 1551, Gozo was attacked by the Ottoman’s and many of the inhabitants hid in the Citadel and sought shelter, but the walls and protection didn't really help. Almost the entire population of Gozo at that time was killed or taken as slaves to Tripoli, being sold. Bernardo De Opuo is considered a hero - he didn't want his wife and two daughters to end up as slaves; he killed them with his sword at home and then fought bravely against the invaders, killing many of them before he himself was killed."  
"That's how I'd hate to go down in history as a hero," Martin commented on the little extra heroic story. "Has the Citadel been completely rebuilt?" he asked.  
Emma nodded and stopped with him on a small hill where the large-scale citadel towered.   
She nodded again.   
"Yes, it has been rebuilt and extended. I'm sure you'll enjoy the walk through the little town within the town."

Martin had stopped with her, looking up, seeing the thick towering sandstone-coloured walls - and he could not guess how much was escaping his eyes at the moment.   
He could not yet guess that the Citadel was much larger than he expected it to be, that he would have a fantastic view over the whole of Gozo, that the sun would shine through the narrow and preserved alleys, that he would be able to marvel at the ruins of old houses, as well as at an old prison, museums, bastions, a cathedral, bunkers, statues, and picturesque sunlit squares.  
With wide wondering eyes, he simply looked up, marvelling actually only at one of the sandstone-coloured walls, as well as the Maltese flag waving in the wind and sun.  
And suddenly there were far more than a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. 

His eyes fixed on the towering fortress.  
The feet carried him down the street, towards a modern little complex, for they would have to pay admission.  
The eyes were distracted, the feet worked quite automatically - safely he was guided by Emma's hand while still gazing at the fortress with rapt attention.  
Ears listened intently to every little syllable that left Emma's mouth, despite the distraction and despite the fact that he didn't seem like he was hanging on Emma's every word at the moment.

He was sure that this sightseeing tour with Emma would once again be unique and extraordinary.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had become late - they had extended their excursion today until late in the evening, had taken the ferry back to Malta, Cirkewwa, just before 10 pm, and from there they had driven back to Sliema. 

They had enjoyed and savoured the time not only in the jewellery shop with Eliza and Carlotta, but also their time as a couple.

Martin had been a little boy again, had bombarded Emma with questions - but to almost all his questions he had received a detailed and very interesting answer. If Emma had not told any stories during her sightseeing tour, he had asked one question after the other.  
He had absorbed and stored the information - he loved culture and history, he loved learning new things and with Emma it was great fun.  
He had even apologised for his many questions, but Emma had assured him that she really liked his interest and the many questions, that she was happy to answer anything she could, and that he didn't have to hold back on his questioning.  
Martin had enjoyed the time - with Eliza and Carlotta, alone with Emma, and during the great sightseeing tour. 

They had got up early today, but the trip to Gozo and mainly to Victoria had been so much fun that they had hardly found an end.   
But the last few metres from the car park up to the penthouse had left their feet screaming, letting them know that they were finally having enough for today; that they definitely had been used long enough.

In Gozo, they had fed and taken care of themselves all day long, now they were just lounging lazily on the couch.

It was 00:42. 

They had been lounging on the couch for a while, having only taken a short shower after their arrival.

At 09:45 they had left Mġarr.  
At 10:10 they had docked in Ċirkewwa.  
At 10:18 they had left the car park at the harbour.  
At 10:56 they had parked near the penthouse.

Since their bodies had touched the couch at 11:14, Emma and Martin had drunk a bottle of red wine.  
A second bottle of wine had been opened - the rosé stood on the coffee table, next to it two filled glasses, a carafe of water and several flickering candles.   
Music filled the room softly and quietly, barely audible yet perceptible. 

They had exchanged affectionate caresses - cuddled, kissed, snuggled, caressed, smooched and massaged each other.  
They had yapped together, although their lips had hardly remained still during the excursion.   
They had laughed heartily - at their jokes, at cheeky sayings, at funny anecdotes, at saucy repartee, at their own nonsense and banter.

Martin felt an incredible lightness in himself that definitely did not come from alcohol - he knew he felt this lightness because of Emma.  
It was Emma who gave his life so much unbelievable lightness - and together with this also a lot of love, security, happiness, light and warmth.  
In general, he could not complain about his life so far, even if there had been some strokes of fate, even if he had made mistakes he regretted and not everything had been or progressed as he had imagined - but he could say with absolute certainty that he had never felt so good in his whole life as he did now with Emma.   
He adored his children, didn't want to miss them for a second, but even while becoming a dad, he hadn't felt like he did with Emma since the moment the pistachio and coconut ice cream had melted in his garden.   
The unbelievable lightness, the deep love, the intense security, the immense feeling of happiness, the light and the warmth that Emma gave him were overwhelming and an absolutely new feeling for him, because he had never felt all of this in such intensity before.   
Martin beamed with blue eyes at Emma - he was happy to let her call him an amorous old dork. 

Emma smirked at him, having just called him an amorous old dork, for he had repeatedly whispered declarations of love into her ear with soft kisses - always with different words, telling her each time how much he loved her and that she meant the world to him.   
She gently tousled his grey hair, then nudged his nose.   
Emma bent to him, stroking his tousled hair, but she did not fix it. 

A kiss met his temple, then his cheek, then very gently his lips - murmuring her declaration of love against his lips, murmuring very clearly against his lips that he also meant the world to her and that she also loved him very much. 

"Lovey-dovey sop.", Martin smirked against her lips, bit into them gently, then kissed her tenderly.

Her laughter echoed through the living area, her eyes twinkled at Martin - she wasn't the only one who already showed in her gaze that she was a little bit drunk. 

Martin grinned - her legs were lying across his lap, sitting close to him, cuddling with him.   
He pushed her off him, pushed her onto the big wide couch, attacked her cheekily.  
He knelt over her, let his hands wander unabashedly beneath her T-shirt, tickled her sides.  
Martin's fingers were nimble.

Emma laughed heartily - the strength to resist was low due to the long trip and the wine. She could only laugh and gasp.

"You make it very easy for me," Martin laughed, still tickling her with nimble fingers.

Emma yipped with laughter, unable to even kick her legs.  
"Too exhausted." she laughed.   
Her eyes were closed, she lay defenceless on the couch.

Martin grinned broadly, let go of her for a moment, sat up, slid to her feet.  
He heard her whimper even before he touched her again.

"Please don't,... please don't, Martin. Have mercy." she whimpered, already laughing even though he wasn't even tickling her yet.  
"I'm really very sorry,... okay,... that was a big fat lie - I'm not sorry. I can't pass up the chance, that would be a real shame, kiddo." he said and then had to laugh. "I'm not doing anything yet and you're already shaking with laughter."  
"Because I know what you're up to, you sneaky little nipper from England," she laughed.  
"The sneaky little nipper from England doesn't want to keep the defenceless woman from Malta squirming any longer," he laughed.

Fingers deftly and nimbly tickled Emma's bare feet. 

Emma was panting and gasping with laughter, still unable to fight back; she was just shaking with laughter, tears of laughter running down her cheeks, her stomach already aching with laughter, as was her throat.  
Fun and pleasure rushed through her body, although Martin did not let go of her - but Martin did not torture her unpleasantly; the tickling was intense, but not too intense; the fingers tickled her naughtily, but only so lightly and charmingly that the tickling did not become unpleasant but continued to keep her body in a pleasurable and fun state.   
Emma was panting and gasping, laughing and giggling, chuckling and laughing. 

Martin's hands gave her a short break after a few tickling moments - he gave her time to catch her breath and calm her heart; gently he stroked up her T-shirt, stroked it up to her breasts; very gently and innocently he even kissed her flat stomach.   
He let her take a breath, kissed the tender skin on her belly a second time.  
Martin's fingers danced tenderly over her belly, but they tickled cheekily over her sides. 

Again Emma's laughter resounded through the room, joined by Martin's, for he was having just as much fun as Emma. 

The December night air gently brushed through the open balcony door.  
Gently, the nightly December air brushed over their laughing bodies.

Gently they were caressed by the nightly December air.


	39. Softness

_**\- Wednesday, December/16 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Q1 Apartments, Emma's penthouse -** _

The wintry sun was once again warming Malta with 21 degrees; it was shining through the open balcony door in the bedroom - gently brushing the wind through the white soft floor-length curtains that did not hide the balcony door behind them but allowed a view of the wide blue sea.

Gently, Martin's fingertips wandered up Emma's naked back, tickling and caressing the bare delicate skin tenderly.   
The fingertips caressed beneath the shoulder-length hair, caressed the nape of her neck gossamer softly - he felt goose bumps under his fingertips.

Emma shivered pleasantly, purring and moaning - the fingertips felt fantastic, but the hand she was holding felt also very pleasant.  
Martin squeezed her hand, enjoying holding Emma's hand, enjoying the fact that she was holding his hand even more, holding on, seeking support, squeezing his hand again and again, moaning pleasantly. 

His eyes eyed Emma - blue, bright, lustful.  
He eyed the young woman whose eyes were closed, who was enjoying with pleasure and relish - her expression spoke volumes, but so did the rest of her body and her voice.   
His eyes scrutinised Emma - he licked his lips.

It was already shortly after 12 pm - they had slept late, having ended their trip to Gozo with two bottles of wine, lolling, cuddling, snuggling and fondling each other on the sofa; being cheeky, bantering, fooling around, then making love that had turned into very passionate and wild sex, that had turned into very tender lovemaking before they had orgasmed.  
It had become quite late, not only because of the enjoyable wine drinking, the cuddling, snuggling, fondling, fooling around, the sex and their conversations, but because they had also enjoyed the trip to Gozo until late in the evening.  
They had woken up together - sleepy kisses had been exchanged, sleepy caresses had been enjoyed, more passion and more lust had emerged.   
They were making love for some time now – with pleasure and relish; very tender, very soft, very slow.

He felt immense lust, felt immense passion and longing, deep love.  
He felt secure, safe, deeply loved and comfortable.  
There was bliss, carelessness and deep trust. 

She was what he had been missing, she was exactly what he had needed. 

Gently he grabbed her light brown hair, gently he squeezed her hand, sat up, pressed his lips onto hers.   
He nibbled gently on her lower lip, tempting her into an intimate French kiss.

Emma wrapped an arm around Martin's neck, but her other hand would not let go of Martin's.   
She sat on his lap, enjoying the closeness, enjoying the lovemaking, enjoying his gentle yet very intense movements of his hips joining her tender and intense movements.  
It felt fantastic to be so close to him.  
She felt his naked body against hers, felt not only her goosebumps but his as well.   
It was Emma who intensified the kiss, who made it even more intimate, who showed him quite clearly with her kiss that she was not only extremely aroused but also deeply in love with him.   
Her kiss made him grip her hair and neck a little more; her kiss tempted him to purr into the kiss, to snuggle up to her, to show her quite clearly that he felt the same. 

Gently the wintry breeze brushed through the open balcony door, gently brushed through the floor-length curtains, caressed their naked loving bodies.

The French kiss only dissolved with the shortness of breath - their lips were red and swollen.  
Blue gazed dreamily into brown.  
Brown looked blissfully into blue.   
A smile circled around their lips, it made their eyes sparkle. 

Martin's hand loosened its grip, fingernails scraping delightfully down Emma's back, gripping tenderly the firm and luscious butt.   
"Emma..." the nasal voice purred and moaned against the tender lips.   
"Martin..." murmured Emma's soft and warm voice.   
The delicate fingers stroked through Martin's grey hair, stroking through the tousled and soft splendour. 

Still holding hands, still enjoying the grey hair, still enjoying the firm and luscious butt, Martin and Emma looked at each other with pleasure and lust.   
Emma wrapped her legs tighter around Martin's hips, gazed deep into his eyes, enjoying the amorous palpitations and the lively tingling in her belly.  
Martin massaged her buttocks, pressed her even closer, also gazing deeply into her eyes, also enjoying the amorous palpitations and the overwhelming tingling in his belly.   
Still holding hands, still enjoying the grey hair, still enjoying the firm and luscious butt, Martin and Emma looked at each other sensually and enchanted. 

Sensually and dreamily they gazed into each other's eyes, watching the blue and brown lakes as they climaxed together.   
Watching, they eyed each other, but their lids fluttered - they finally closed their eyes in pleasure, moaning in satisfaction and lust, sensually and pleasurably. 

They pressed their foreheads against the other, moaning and savouring every second of their orgasm.

Slowly, Martin leaned back a little - after enjoying the climax, after enjoying the peace and silence, after they had enjoyed that peace for probably eight minutes.  
Tenderly, he breathed a gentle kiss on Emma's cheek. 

"Good morning, beautiful woman... " the lips breathed charmingly against her cheek.  
"Good morning, handsome man... ", Emma sighed with pleasure.

Still the light pleasant wintry breeze caressed their naked bodies.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly they had started the day - waking up comfortably, gently exchanging caresses, making love tenderly, showering together.  
They had started the day slowly, taking their time, savouring the time. 

They had left the penthouse 40 minutes ago, had decided to go for a walk and a little coffee break.  
They had strolled to the ferry, enjoyed the short ride on it - had let themselves be ferried from Sliema to Valletta.  
Their way had led them through the small alleys to a small bakery - they had had to queue outside for a few minutes, but the wintry sun had not bothered them much.

With a coffee and a small paper bag in their hands, they strolled through the alleys again - in jeans and a light jumper, Martin even with sunglasses on his nose.  
He didn't feel that the weather reading was right, because to him the 21 degrees felt a tiny bit warmer.   
Wearing light jeans and a thin navy-blue long-sleeved T-Shirt, Martin strolled through the alleys next to Emma - he enjoyed the sun, he enjoyed the little trip.  
Wearing light jeans and a white T-Shirt, Emma strolled next to Martin - she was enjoying the walk, enjoying the good weather, looking forward to their coffee time.  
They walked alongside each other to Lower Barrakka Gardens.

The garden offered not only countless green plants, a fountain, a monument and cosy seating, but also a view of the sea and the Grand Harbour. 

Emma and Martin strolled to a bench that was directly placed in the sun and offered a unique view.  
They sat down - Emma placed the paper bag with the goodies next to her on the bench. 

Martin turned his head to Emma, crossed one leg elegantly over the other. He pulled the mask completely off his ears.  
The mask was tucked into his trouser pocket, a smile spreading across his face.  
He leaned towards her, put an arm around her shoulder, breathed a kiss on her temple - the coffee was standing on his thigh, his free hand was holding it securely in place.  
Emma had also removed her mask, had also crossed one leg over the other and turned slightly towards Martin.   
Her eyes gazed at him brightly - she slid even closer to him.   
She also leaned a little closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on his bearded cheek.

The wintry breeze brushed lightly through their hair.

Charmingly, Martin winked at his girlfriend, then turned his head to the breathtaking view - sipping his coffee, savouring the taste.  
The wine last night had tasted delicious - but two bottles of it had clearly been too much; so far he hadn't even felt hungry, even though he was now looking forward to the sweet treats from the paper bag.  
He could sense that Emma was not enjoying the view but watching him.  
It didn't feel weird or uncomfortable - he had to admit, he liked being watched and eyed by her, because even though this visit here was generally only their second meeting without Skype, he knew full well that Emma wasn't just eyeing him and watching him right now; he knew that her eyes were sparkling as she did so, that they were sparkling lovestruck.   
He liked being watched by her, because it wasn't just her words and her gestures that showed him very clearly that she sincerely loved him - it was also her looks.  
Not to mention that it was of course very flattering to be adored enamoured by a woman who was 18 years younger - and yet found him very attractive, handsome and hot.   
His heart was beating faster, his stomach tingled - his eyes shone across the sea to the buildings he could make out on the other side of the bay.  
The eyes were not only beaming because of the view, they were beaming above all because of Emma.

Many times Emma had sat here, been inspired, actually painted, sometimes just had a coffee, read something or simply enjoyed the view - today she ignored the usual view, today her eyes looked at something more beautiful.  
Her brown eyes examined Martin closely.  
Radiant, amorous, elated, tender, adoring.  
She leaned a little closer, kissed the bearded cheek again - she could feel the smile that settled on Martin's face during the second kiss.  
Gently, her lips kissed up to Martin's ear; purring, she whispered to him.

"I'm repeating myself, but it's really nice to have you here," she purred in a whisper. "And thank you for having the courage to embark on this extraordinary little adventure; thank you for unwrapping your sister’s souvenir from Malta," she purred again in a whisper before pressing a kiss to his ear and then resting her head on his shoulder.

Martin's heart was leaping into his throat.   
Gosh, he had never been that deeply in love with someone before – these immense and breathtaking amorous feelings overwhelmed him.  
And his heart was beating even faster.  
He turned his head, kissed Emma's head gently and pulled her a little more into his gentle embrace.   
The heart was still beating at an exceptionally fast pace - and the butterflies in his stomach were also exceptionally wildly busy again.  
He cuddled his cheek on her head, watching the glittering sea.  
A big smile circled around his lips.

"Actually, I really have to thank Laura and Lamar again - or rather, we have to thank them again. If I hadn't dared to contact you with a little half-true lie, Laura would have set us up anyway with her little matchmaking trick. She had her mind set on setting us up from the start - and as you saw, she would have helped out if we two hadn't managed it without her," he smiled. "I don't really like being set up, especially because it means someone's interfering; after all, I was already overchallenged and overwhelmed because she gave me your Skype details - but I have to admit, in hindsight, I would have been very grateful to her if she had actually interfered and set us up with her trick."  
"But she only told you about the adventure; you, however, set off on that adventure all on your own, honey."

As nice as the cuddling was, Emma slowly sat up straight again and looked at Martin. 

"I love our story. I really love it," she breathed.   
"I feel the same way - and this little extraordinary adventure and souvenir has really done me very good, actually given me one of the most beautiful gifts in this world." He tilted his head, sparkling at her with blue eyes. "And I think it's very nice to be here, too. It's fantastic to spend time with you and actually feel you too. If we weren't in the middle of a pandemic, I would have visited you a lot more often, I even would have gotten on a plane to see you just for a day and a night." he breathed softly. "I enjoy skyping and also dating you via Skype, I really do, it’s great and unique - but I miss you immensely. I really can't put into words how much I miss you when I’m in London without you."

He looked deep into her eyes, let his gaze wander briefly to her lips, closed his eyes and stole a kiss.   
A smile settled on Emma's lips, which also stole a kiss from Martin. 

"I feel exactly the same way. If it weren't for this pandemic, I would also visit you regularly, whether for several weeks, several days or several hours. And I also miss you a lot. I love skyping with you - but I'd much rather actually know and feel you with me. We'll make up for it as soon as this pandemic is over, I promise, " Emma breathed softly.

Again she stole a kiss.  
Again Martin stole a kiss.

They enjoyed the butterflies.  
They enjoyed the fast-beating heart.  
They enjoyed being in love. 

Gently they kissed.

In Martin's eyes, a far too brief moment.  
"Don't stop yet... ", he murmured against her lips.  
A loving kiss met his lips.  
"It’s lovely to just live and enjoy our love with you.", Emma purred against Martin's lips - addressing his public very intense affection.   
And again she kissed his lips tenderly.  
"I’m addicted now.", Martin murmured against Emma's lips - addressing the desire for adventure.  
A kiss was what Emma had wanted to exchange with Martin, but his comment made her laugh.   
Martin tried to kiss her, but it was in vain, for Emma was still laughing heartily.  
"Stop fucking laughing and kiss me, young lady." smirked Martin, who had not yet had enough of her soft lips and tender sweet tasting kisses.   
Her laugh turned into a grin, the grin into a smirk, her smirk into a soft smile. 

She tempted him into a sweet kiss, deftly entangled him in the kiss.   
Her heart was beating fast and loud, beating enamoured and longing.  
She loved kissing him.   
Her tongue licked gently over his lower lip - she hadn't wanted it to come that far, not knowing if this kind of kiss was maybe too much for him in public.  
She wanted to end the upcoming intimate and passionate French kiss innocently, but Martin took the lead and seduced her into the passionate and intimate French kiss she had wanted to stop.   
She felt not only his arm hugging her closer and his hand tangling in her hair at the back of her head, but also his tongue who was passionately dancing.   
Her heart was beating at full speed, stopping, somersaulting - the heartbeat could be heard in her ears.  
Seductively and sensual, she returned Martin's kiss.

Their tongues danced tenderly and delightfully, passionately and sensual, intimately and lovestruck.  
They enjoyed and lived their love, enjoyed the little adventure.

Martin purred into the kiss.  
If he didn't have the coffee in his other hand, he would have buried it in Emma's hair by now too.   
He sighed when he felt Emma nibble on his lower lip.  
He sighed again when she took his lip between her teeth, when she released it again and sucked on it briefly as she seduced him into another soulful kiss.   
His heart was doing somersaults and he could hardly calm himself down.

Gently, the wintry breeze still brushed through their hair.  
Gently, the wintry sun still caressed them.

Comfortably they sat on one of the benches in Lower Barrakka Gardens, each holding a coffee, but instead of enjoying the view and the freshly brewed coffee, they enjoyed their togetherness and intimacy. 

Their lips ended the second soulful kiss after what felt like eternity.  
They looked deep into each other's eyes, smiled and beamed.

Martin looked dreamily into Emma's brown eyes, looking as if he would have let her seduce him to much more if they would be in her penthouse right now.  
He winked charmingly, smiling just as charmingly.  
"I don't know if we can stop these French kisses yet."  
Emma smirked, leaned forward, blew a kiss on his nose, then looked into his face, which was kissed by the sun.  
"I think we need to stop for a moment - your tummy whispered that you’re hungry," she winked cheekily, addressing the growling of his belly during the second intimate French kiss. 

An embarrassed expression appeared on Martin's face for a few seconds, but then his eyes sparkled boyishly, and the grin stretched cheekily across his face.  
He released the hug, leaned past her and grabbed the paper bag containing Maltese treats. 

And as he leaned against the back of the bench again, he sipped his coffee and gentlemanly offered Emma a reach into the treats first.


	40. Cocostachio

_**\- Friday, December/18 - 2020, Malta, Sliema, Tigné Point, Emma's Apartment -** _

** Martin's POV**

Waving and with a smile on my face, I sat next to Emma on the balcony - the winter sun shining in my face, my eyes glancing at the laptop; Laura and Lamar were also waving, behind them I could see the rain drumming against the windowpanes.

"Enjoy the last two days, you two adorable lovebirds," Laura beamed at us.  
"It has been nice chatting with you a bit - but now we'll call it a day, I can't see the good weather any longer while I have to endure the rain," Lamar grinned at us.  
I laughed.  
"Well, this time I can make you jealous," I waggled my eyebrows cheekily.  
"It wouldn't hurt you to send some sunshine to Scotland," I saw Lamar grinning broadly.  
"As I said almost a year ago... I'm not the weather girl," I smirked to my long-time friend and brother-in-law.  
"And as I said back then,... you'd make a really cute weather girl."

We laughed boisterously - in my ears I also heard the laughter of Emma and the laughter of my sister; especially the hearty laughter of Emma was music to my ears, it even made my heart beat faster, even gave me a tingling belly.

I looked to Kingswell Aberdeen with Emma, waving again, seeing my sister beaming overjoyed, yet she hadn't just found out today that playing cupid had succeeded and her souvenir had indeed been a perfect gift - she knew it for some months now, yet she still seemed as happy about her successful matchmaking attempt as I was about the fact that this stunning and extraordinary young woman beside me, was my girlfriend.  
I winked at my twin sister - many times I had thanked her over the course of the last 49 years, but I had probably thanked her more times in the last few months than I had in the last 49 years.

Just because of Laura I could enjoy this relationship - of course I had contacted Emma, managed to win her heart, invited her to London, kissed her during our ice cream sundae date, and told her I was in love with her; but none of this would have been possible hadn’t Laura given me Emma's contact details as a souvenir, completely euphoric and gushing.

We waved again, smiled at each other again before the screen went black.

We had been skyping with Laura and Lamar for almost an hour, telling them about the last few days and thanking them again several times for the great souvenir - not only did I appreciate this gift very much, but Emma was also very grateful to my sister and Lamar that they had made her a souvenir.  
We had been chatting and having a great time for almost an hour - and my sister had once again been unable to get her enthusiastic glow off her face; but with Emma by my side, I felt very much the same.

I turned my head towards Emma, feeling that not only my eyes and mouth were shining, but also my stomach, my heart and my head.  
I leaned towards her - it was only a little way because we were sitting very close to each other.  
Gently, I breathed a kiss on her cheek as she switched off the laptop.  
I kissed the tender cheek again, let my lips wander to her ear, kissed it gossamer softly, bit her earlobe teasingly for a moment.

Emma shivered beside me, sighed beside me, leaned her head towards my lips.  
I smiled against her ear, kissing it softly again.  
"I love you, Em.", I purred in her ear, in love, my stomach tingling. Again I bit her earlobe very gently, then kissed her ear again, hearing her purr and sigh. "Before I eat you up, beautiful lady... we better make our sundaes so we can enjoy another coconut and pistachio date," I whispered in her ear.  
Emma smiled, turned her head towards me, stole a kiss.  
"Cocostachio." she smirked against my lips.  
I stole a kiss as well, smirking against her lips too.  
"It's nice that we don't have to enjoy the Cocostachio date in Maltland," I murmured against her lips, stealing another kiss.  
Emma smiled against my lips, taking my face in her hands, leaning back a little after my kiss.

I looked at her, gazed into her brown eyes, which were deep and loving - I licked my lips, had to swallow; the intense gaze triggered strong heart palpitations and strong stomach tingles.  
Gently, her right hand stroked the side of my head; the hand ran through my hair, then rested against my cheek.

"I love you, ħanini."

The glow on my face grew brighter and bigger, not only from her amorous intense gaze, not only from the fact that she was touching me, and I could look at her, but also from her declaration of love - I simply wasn’t getting tired of those three beautiful words.

She winked at me, stood up, caressed my grey hair, leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"I am now very much in the mood for our cocostachio date, you cute pistachio." she smirked at my forehead - I guessed she was alluding to the green long-sleeved shirt I was wearing, which did indeed resemble a pistachio in colour.  
I grinned, lifted my head, beamed cheekily up at her, put my hands on her hips, let them gently stroke her back, nuzzled her back with my fingers - my fingers tickled over the white T-shirt she was wearing.  
"I'm also very much in the mood for our cocostachio date,... you sweet...", I grinned even more. "I don't want to say coconut.", I had to laugh with her. "You cute coconut flake.", I grinned.  
Emma's laugh still rang out heartily.  
"Coconut flake? Because I don't look like a coconut I'm instantly a coconut flake?"  
"Yes. After all, you're a bit smaller than me and slimmer," I grinned. "A pistachio is not that big, you can't be a coconut slice," I grinned at her.

We laughed together as I stood up as well.  
We were still laughing as we stepped off the balcony into the penthouse.  
We were still laughing when we arrived in the kitchen.

I grabbed her hand and pulled her close to me, holding her hand tightly, wrapping my other arm around her shoulder and neck.  
With a kiss, I stopped our boisterous laughter.  
I devoured her lips, kissed her tenderly yet hungrily, kissed her gently yet passionately.  
And I sighed with her into the kiss as our tongues met playfully.

My left hand held her right hand.  
My right hand wandered over her neck, gently moving into her soft hair at the back of her head.  
My tongue played with hers, tasting and intimate.  
My right hand gently reached into her light brown hair, feeling the soft hair, enjoying the sensation immensely.  
My left hand gently held her right hand while my thumb stroked the back of her hand.

Her right hand held my left hand possessively.  
Her left hand lay against my cheek; fingers gently stroking my three-day beard.  
Her tongue joined my kiss, playing and dancing with my tongue just as intimately and savouring.

I bit her lower lip gently, capturing them, playfully releasing them.  
Our lips were wet, our eyes sparkled.  
I smiled at her, lifted our holding hands, breathed a gentle kiss on the backs of her fingers.

It was impossible to put into words how much I loved this young woman who stood in front of me, adoring me with her amorous eyes.  
And it wasn't just me she had wrapped around her finger in no time; it wasn't just me who could hardly get enough of her - she had also wrapped Joe and Gracie around her finger with a single smile, and both my children could hardly get enough of Emma either.

Only this morning we had skyped with them, and once again I had seen, heard and felt that Joe and Gracie were very enthusiastic about my girlfriend – I’ve seen it in their eyes and posture, I’ve heard it more than clearly from their words, I’ve felt it inside me, because I knew my children well enough to be able to read them like a book.  
Only this morning we had skyped, and in doing so Joe and Gracie had made it very clear that they were very fond of Emma, that they had taken Emma to their hearts, that Emma was absolutely accepted as my girlfriend.

Emma stroked my cheek, let her thumb brush over my moist lips. She smiled at me, stepped a little closer, nuzzling her cheek against mine. Her arms wrapped around my torso, cuddling against me in her embrace.  
I smiled, put my arms around her neck, pressed her lovingly against me - pressed her possessively and protectively against me.

"You give the best hugs," I heard Emma's voice say.  
"I've been told that before," I smiled.  
"Must be something to it then," I heard Emma's smiling voice.  
She turned her head, breathed a kiss on my cheek.  
"Apparently so," I smiled. "I can give you a long hug later...", I breathed.  
"I'll get back to you.", she breathed another kiss on my cheek.  
"If not, I'll remind you."

We lowered our arms and took a step back, smiling at each other.

I winked charmingly at her, took her face in both hands, pressed a firm kiss to her lips.  
"Now, let's take care of our ice cream first."  
"Cuddling and kissing, coconut and pistachio have definitely mixed a lot already," she grinned at me.  
"That's why it's a cocostachio date," I smirked.  
"It was our first date." she beamed. "Going out for an ice cream."  
I nodded.  
"Yes, a very lovely first date - and when we repeated it in London, I could taste your coconut ice cream on your spoon and my pistachio ice cream on your lips; we’ve come full circle," I winked flirtatiously and stole another kiss of her lips, my hands still holding her face. "So far, I can't taste coconut or pistachio on your lips today."  
Emma beamed at me with relish.  
"What can you taste?"  
"Oh,... lots and lots of love," I murmured flirtatiously.  
Emma looked at me, mused at me and my face, scrutinised my eyes and my lips, made it clear she liked my flirting - she leaned in, kissed my lips longingly with a firm kiss.  
"Hmmm,... quite a lot of love I taste on your lips too."  
I smiled, nudged her nose with my finger, then lowered my hands again.

We gave each other one last smile before stepping behind the kitchen island to kick off the afternoon with our cocostachio date.

I loved this intense in-love feeling, feeling like a teenager in love, enjoying this intense constant stomach tingling and heart racing, and soft knees.  
It was actually not so easy to prepare an ice cream sundae now, because my lips and hands were tingling longingly, wanting to tempt her into more kisses and hugs.

Together we gathered the ingredients for our sundaes, prepared bowls and spoons, couldn't help but exchange more little kisses.

Emma stood close to me at the kitchen island; I could feel her body, smell her scent.  
She stood next to me, letting the coconut ice cream slide into her bowl.  
That I was on cloud nine and had a teenage crush, I could feel very clearly inside me, because even this simple closeness made my heart go crazy.  
My racing heart and strongly tingling stomach distracted me from my own sundae, which already had pistachio ice cream in it.  
My hands were just functioning automatically, adding raspberries and colourful sprinkles, while I was much more attentive to how the stunning woman next to me was sprinkling chocolate sprinkles, chocolate drops and coconut sprinkles on her coconut ice cream.  
All my senses were with Emma, even if I wasn't looking directly at her.

For a brief moment, my thoughts drifted, drifted to the end of this little vacation - I didn't want to think about that at all, because I would prefer not to leave her at all, or rather just pack her in the suitcase and take her with me to London; not just to extend the visit.  
The love for her, as well as the trust, had settled deep inside me, and I could already imagine moving in with the young woman next to me and living together with her.

Unnoticed, I had decorated my own ice cream with biscuits, chocolate sprinkles and After Eight.  
Unnoticed, Emma had decorated her ice cream with mango and coconut slices.  
Unnoticed it had happened because my mind had been caught up in a fantasy about living with Emma - a rather beautiful fantasy.

Automatically, my hand reached for the chocolate sauce Emma handed me, but while I was still fantasising about this fantastic idea of living together and my attention was more on Emma than on my own movements, I grasped the glass bottle with the chocolate sauce only with my fingertips.

My body alarmed me, woke up from the heavenly fantasy, diverted all attention away from Emma, diverted all attention to the glass bottle with the chocolate sauce.  
Reflexively, I crouched down ever so slightly, reached for the glass bottle again,... and luckily got hold of it before it hit the kitchen floor.

"That almost made a huge mess," I heard Emma's amused voice. "Where have you been with your thoughts?"

Heart pounding, I stood up - suddenly remembering the mishap in my own kitchen the day I'd found out about Emma.

"… was thinking about you," I said, placing the chocolate sauce on the kitchen island. I turned my head towards her, my heart calmed down slowly. I breathed a kiss on Emma's cheek. "Your old amorous dork is a little too much in love and smitten by you." Gently, I bit her cheek, then kissed her again.

I felt Emma's smile, felt her turn her head too, kissing my lips, stealing another kiss, biting my lower lip gently, kissing them tenderly afterwards.

"I quite like that; you could have decorated my entire kitchen with chocolate sauce for that too, you adorable amorous old fool." she murmured against my lips lovestruck. "It’s good to know that you still have such good reflexes at your age.", she grinned cheekily at my lips, deftly entangling me in a sweet kiss even before I could smirk and rebuke her.

I smirked into the kiss, was seduced into another kiss, her fingers even nuzzled my neck in the process - a sigh escaped my lips.  
I could no longer feel her tender lips, but her delicate hand gently caressed my cheek.

"Let me finish my sundae, cheeky young lady," I smirked, not having forgotten her cheeky comment despite her caresses and kisses.

Emma grinned at me, grinned at me even as I drizzled chocolate sauce over my ice cream - feeling another kiss of her lips on my cheek, she bit my cheek teasingly, grinning, murmuring something cheekily and teasingly, grinning and smirking against my cheek.

"I can guide your doddering hand too, if that helps, old man."

Caring, she placed her hand on mine, making me laugh heartily not only by her words but also by her gesture.

It had been a very extraordinary year for anyone in the world.  
But once I put this extraordinary situation out of my mind, this year had held a very extraordinary surprise for me.

I was sitting on the floor of the balcony, leaning with my back against the wall - to my right was a richly decorated Christmas tree, in my right hand I held a glass of wine; my eyes caught sight of the Mediterranean Sea and Valletta; in my left hand I felt a gentle hand, to my left sat Emma, with whom I had enjoyed another very nice cocostachio date.

Delicious ice cream, gentle kisses, tender cuddles, cheeky teasing, hearty laughter, loving words.

We had enjoyed our date on the balcony, sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, sitting close together.  
The ice cream had disappeared some time ago, we had exchanged the sundaes for wine glasses, even though the sun was still high in the sky, turning this year’s December in Malta into a little paradise.

My left hand held the delicate hand of Emma.

Emma, an extraordinary woman with whom I had fallen in love in an extraordinary way.  
Emma, an extraordinary woman whom I had met in an extraordinary way.

My hand would never let go of hers again.

I knew I had found my home with her in this extraordinary way.  
And I was curious to see how much this extraordinary souvenir would change my future.

The End & To Be Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh - it was the last one already.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, had a lot to laugh, grin and smile about, maybe there were even a few things that touched your heart.
> 
> Thanks for reading :-)
> 
> We'll read each other again  
> Take care and stay safe


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